


Rebuilding Avalon

by espressopulse, innerain



Series: The Avalon Cycle [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mamma Mia! Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Bondage, Bottom Eggsy Unwin, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, Dom Harry Hart, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Eggsy Unwin Whump, Eggsy Unwin is a Little Shit, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Food Sex, Gentleman Harry Hart, Harry Hart is a Little Shit, Harry Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hurt Harry Hart, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Merlin (Kingsman) Lives, Merlin is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining, Not Britpicked, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Harry Hart, Roleplay Logs, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sounding, Sub Eggsy Unwin, Tags Contain Spoilers, Top Harry Hart, Whump, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:52:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 74,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18290021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espressopulse/pseuds/espressopulse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerain/pseuds/innerain
Summary: Finding out that the man you fell ass-over-teakettle in love with has basically come back from the dead is plenty good enough a reason to break it off with the Princess you bummed while saving the world the first time… Innit? Now, Eggsy just has to woo Harry Hart, his former mentor and soon to be Kingsman's new King Arthur of Avalon. He knows what he wants and he's not that beat down Chav street punk anymore (well, he is still that Chav street punk - he’s just not anywhere near that browbeaten since Dean's been outta the Unwin Family's lives). Nothing and no one's stopping him from finding his and Harry's Happily Ever After! Except… maybe Harry himself…?Harry finds that he must now learn how to adapt, live and thrive in a very changed world. Waking up in a padded cell after months of amnesia, saving the world yet again, nearly losing his best friend and returning to the ruins of his home, of Kingsman, of his life, almost sounds like a walk in the park, compared to how his heart and his mind keep fighting to the death over what should be done about a certain Chav agent...





	1. Hello my old heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello y’all, 
> 
> What you’re all about to read isn’t your typical fan fiction, but it is rather the result of months and months of relentless, enthusiastic, transatlantic RPing, between Italy (myself – innerain a.k.a. Harry) and the U.S.A. (the lovely espressopulse a.k.a. Eggsy).  
> I found myself drawn to a certain Kingsman-related Tumblr post even though in truth I was going through a rather different obsession at the time (*cough* The Walking Dead *cough*) and had long since set our beloved Kingsman fandom aside. I’d never played Harry for an extended RP before, and my inspiration did not immediately return to me. My new RP partner was nevertheless patient and generous enough to work through that with me, and eventually, I was back on a roll. So yes, here we are now, several months later, between endless amounts of smut, lots of plotting and our respective lives taking time out of this brilliant little thing we’ve got going on.  
> Given that it’s a WIP and that the two of us have no idea if and when it’s ever going to finish, any and all inconsistencies, discrepancies and stuff that just makes absolutely no sense at all – it’s all on us, but it’s all part of the RPing fun, innit?  
> That being said, I think I’ve spoken far too much already, so I’ll pass the microphone over to my partner in crime (or shall I say, espionage?), espressopulse. 
> 
> Cheers to all. 
> 
> innerain 
> 
> ________
> 
> Hey folks! 
> 
> As my co-author/RP-partner said, this isn't your typical fanfic. It's an ongoing labor of love, so when you pick this up to read it remember it's just for fun and we're just going with the flow our muses lay out for us.  
> I fell in love with the Kingsman fandom after a very dear friend (AkaiTsume) had suggested I watch The Secret Service. How could I not love Harry Hart and Eggsy Unwin (individually and together)?! But my first draw was actually to Harry. So I jumped on Tumblr and made myself a Harry Hart RP Blog. I made up a very hopeful little post reaching out to see if anyone else was still around in the fandom and behold! Hehehe, Innerain reached out and said ‘Let's do this!’ in her polite, almost shy way.  
> I was hesitant to take on Eggsy as my muse, but I've found I absolutely love writing him! He's sweet and stalwart and his accent is so much fun to work into the dialogue!  
> Anyway! I hope you like our RP-turned-Fanfic! 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Espressopulse
> 
> ******
> 
> Also, our chapter titles are pulled from our inspirationally relevant Spotify playlist, either from the song titles or the lyrics. So We'll provide a link to the song itself whenever possible.
> 
> The title for this chapter was inspired by:  
> ["Hello My Old Heart" by The Oh Hellos](https://open.spotify.com/track/2c62Xf5Po1YSa1N6LOjPHy?si=9cDnaWRUQAODkoPmn4IRdw)

It was late in the afternoon when the cab finally dropped them off, and thank  _fuck_  it hadn't taken a single moment longer. Eggsy was well knackered and he could only guess what Harry might be feeling like. Pulling their luggage from the boot, he handed Harry his travel bag, thanked their driver for the smooth trip. Even though it was a Kingsman cab Eggsy felt it was warranted given the hour and distance traveled. Together they turned to the stroll up Merlin's front step their pace the leisurely gait of two very weary men. Eggsy wasted no time revealing the secret key pad, punching in the number code Merlin had written down for him and then he pushed inside. 

"Alrigh’. Good," he breathed when the lights all came on automatically. Eggsy held the door for Harry and then shut it once his mentor was through. "M'guessin' you've been here before yeah? An’ you can give me a proper tour?" 

Eggsy dropped his bag on a chair and pulled his suit coat off. It didn't bear thinking about all the clothes they would both have to replace... or the things that simply couldn't be replaced at all like Mr. Pickle, JB, his mate Brandon, Harry's butterfly collection... or any of the many Kingsman Agents lost that day. Seaglass green eyes turned to Harry in that moment's thought and Eggsy's chest got tight. Even weary Harry's broad shoulders looked like they could hold up Eggsy's  _whole fucking world_  (and they had, at one point). Harry Hart, super spy and  _world fit_ silver fox, was a walking, talking miracle. One Eggsy felt the need to pinch himself over once in a while to make sure he wasn't dreaming him up. Every time Harry turned out to really be there... Eggsy's heart got all warm and heavy with emotions and he often found himself staring - like right now. 

\----- 

The flight back from the United States had been utterly, completely exhausting. Harry had not managed to catch five minutes of shut-eye caught between arranging the collaboration between what remained of Kingsman, Statesman and many of the other foreign branches of Kingsman's network of independent, international intelligence agencies - which was going to be fully effective and operational in one or two days at the most - and receiving updates and news regarding Merlin's wellbeing and status - which seemed to be reaching a fairly stable point. To be fair, Harry had pretty much just tried to keep himself occupied because Heavens knew the last thing he needed was to stop and actually  _think,_ to actually give himself time to consider what had happened and what they’d been through, what  _he’d_ been through. Or, perhaps even worse, the unsettling possibility that he could have fallen asleep on the bloody Statesman plane, perhaps even deeply enough to warrant a nightmare, cause a fine little scene in front of everyone Eggsy included (or rather, Eggsy above all), and then show just how much of the tattered, ragged pieces of his once gloriously well-composed, steely, gentlemanly self had really been put back together after all.  

But alas, the flight had thankfully come to an end, and - a series of delays and a cab ride later – finally,  _finally,_  a piece of home. Or, well, something familiar and home-like, at the very least; although in a way, it felt almost as if it were emerging from another life, the traces of a wreckage from times past. Harry hadn't dared ask anything about his own home, as of yet, but considering what he knew about Kingsman HQ and the shop on Saville Row having to be rebuilt from the ground up, it wasn't exactly a question that needed to be asked, nor answered explicitly. Perhaps Eggsy would tell him about the whole thing, someday. 

"Indeed I have, yes." Harry replied, clearing his voice as he tried to push away the bone-deep tiredness while looking briefly around the house. Merlin's distinct love for mixing high-tech and clean, elegant cutting-edge design with the timeless refinement of a wooden and more classical decor was written all over the house as they stepped inside it - along with his signature, impeccable tidiness. 

"We can have a quick look around, leave our bags in our respective rooms, then settle down a moment for a nice cup of tea. Does that sound acceptable?" The older spy asked, the smile he added at the end of his words not quite reaching his good eye, but it was an attempt nonetheless - an attempt at offering some sort of reassurance, of a steady presence for Eggsy to latch onto, because the young man damn well deserved it, after all he'd done, after all he’d been through.  

He was the one certainty Harry had, the one stable point in Harry's mind; Eggsy’s presence alone was enough to act as a mental magnet to Harry's rather dismally skewed, distorted mental and physical compass. And, well, if a flutter of  _something_  coursed through the older man at the sheer sight of those verdigris orbs looking at him like  _that_... Well, no one needed to know, and Harry knew this was certainly not the time to dwell upon such matters. 

\----- 

Eggsy nodded and shouldered his bag again, carelessly bunching his suit coat in one hand as he was snapped out of his unhappy thoughts by Harry's calm voice and steady presence. The man’s very presence was a balm on Eggsy's jittery nerves and aching heart. Certainly the Golden Circle was disassembled... but he couldn't seem to shake the fear he'd felt over and over that Harry would be snatched away from him again so soon after Eggsy had just gotten him back. That the immediate danger hadn't yet entirely passed. 

"Yeah, good," the youth agreed and fell into step just behind Harry trailing him up the stairs towards the bedrooms. "You hungry, Harry? I could order us some take away." 

Eggsy didn't feel right raiding Merlin's cupboards. Not this late at night anyway when it would be fruitless in the moment. Tomorrow morning he'd take stock of what Merlin had and what they'd need (it could possibly be weeks before they had any other place to stay), and they could pick it all up when they went to spring Prince from the quarantine kennel tomorrow afternoon. Planning, even a simple mental listing of tasks, felt good after all the chaos they'd endured. Not to mention it kept his mind focused and not chasing the rabbit of his worried thoughts down the rabbit hole of anxiety. Even more than the planning ahead, watching Harry move up the stairs just ahead of him (well-shaped ass at eye level and close enough to touch) seemed to be working wonders on keeping Eggsy grounded. Harry was  _here_  and while Eggsy didn't need saving, he felt better having Harry at his back, beside him, just down the hall or in the next room... sharing space. 

How domestic it  seemed to a youth who had lacked any true domesticity in his short life so far. And yet Eggsy actually really liked that. The stability he felt with Harry within calling distance. It was... nice. More than. 

\----- 

Harry might have had just one good eye left, but that didn't make him any less observant. Not when Eggsy was standing there, exhaustion written in every line of his body, of his expression, etched into his very voice -- usually so bright and enthusiastic about things, about anything (and Harry found that he missed that carefree voice of his, as if he hadn't heard it in so long). Being there, after everything that had happened, was clearly taking its toll on him. They both needed some time to regroup, to settle, to get their bearings, after they'd kept on hitting the ground running for so long to take The Golden Circle down. Harry himself needed that almost desperately because so many things had changed, so many things had been taken away from him, from the people he dearly loved...  

He might be wearing a mask of perfectly poised demeanor, but its deeply cracked nature would no doubt come to the fore soon enough if he didn't do something about it, in the quiet of his own thoughts, like a proper gentleman should. 

Leading Eggsy up the stairs, Harry was aware of his altered depth perception for a split second, but gave it no second thought as he went straight up, trying to mask it quickly enough. Once they were upstairs, Harry showed Eggsy around - there was one guest bedroom, more than comfortably and cozily decorated, a main bathroom, a small study, and the master bedroom with the en-suite bathroom. It wasn't much, given that Merlin had lived alone for the majority of his life, but it was tastefully furnished and it would most certainly do until they found a better situation for both of them. 

"I'm not necessarily hungry, but I suppose we should eat something before retiring for the night." Harry agreed as they headed back down and into the kitchen where he filled the kettle, flicked it on and started to take out a couple of mugs, moving about with an easy familiarity which spoke of countless years of friendship with Merlin (and the sheer thought was enough to make a pang of worry shoot through his chest).  

"Do you have a preference? There are a few passable places around here that would not take long to deliver, I should expect." 

\----- 

"Nah, Harry. I'll take care of the food. You're getting the tea." Eggsy had followed Harry back down into the kitchen like a puppy, covering a yawn as he pulled his new phone out of his pocket. Google found him three nearby restaurants, and he looked up to Harry from where he had settled on a chair at the table, leaning heavily on the table top. Harry looked right lovely in the soft glow of the kitchen lights as he methodically, expertly made up two cups of tea. "We've got.... pizza. Chinese. Or sandwiches. Whot's your fancy, Harry?" 

He was trying hard not to think beyond the simple enjoyment of being alive - with Harry - and safe. That Merlin was out of the danger zone of his condition. If he thought more about it than just that far  - and  _bollocks_  but it was hard not to think on everything he knew they would have to do in the coming weeks - he would probably go bonkers. Fuck but he was  _tired_. And hungry. And damn that tea smelled aces already! Good old Harry and his impeccable Britishness that outshone Eggsy's own Britishness simply because Eggsy himself was too ingrained Chav to be that good yet! 

\----- 

Harry found something truly relaxing, calming, almost peaceful in making tea. It was its own ritual, precise and unhurried, yet it demanded his attention even though Harry could easily do it blindfolded -- or, at least, he probably would have been able to, in his own kitchen, before he was metaphorically hit by the combined irony of both not having his own kitchen anymore and being half blind as it was. Still, preparing tea felt good, in its own right, even though it felt like something... something from  _before_. Something from another lifetime. Harry didn't know when he had last done it, when he had last prepared a cup of tea for himself, or for Eggsy, or for  _anyone_  - but he didn't want to dwell on it. Not in that moment. Not when the sheer vertigo of such a thought could easily drag him down, back to where he certainly did not wish to go.  

Just as Eggsy was reading their dinner options aloud, Harry padded over to the table and gently placed one of the two mugs in front of him, while leaving the other on his side of the table, where he sat down, as composed and pristinely upright as ever. Eggsy certainly didn’t need to know that Harry’s mind was doing quite a number on him, his thoughts barely kept from spiraling down into a rabbit hole he most certainly had no interest in exploring just now, if ever.  

"I do hope I correctly remembered your... considerably sweet taste in how you fix your tea." The older spy quipped softly as he wrapped one hand around his mug, before his other hand was lifted up to rub at the ever-tender, almost raw-feeling skin underneath the dark lens, feeling a headache setting in behind his skull, courtesy of his injury and the tiredness setting in. 

"Chinese food would be preferable, although..." Harry trailed off, before one brown eye met those verdigris ones, probably exhausted as his own looked; and well, he figured, who was he to deny his beloved ( _yes, beloved, damn him, he hadn't come all the way to middle age to deny his own feelings, especially not after all this time, thank you very much_ ) young man at least some enjoyment in the form of food?  

"Although I suppose pizza wouldn't go amiss. How do you feel about that?" 

\----- 

The tea settling in front of him brought a bright grin to his face and "Fhanks, Harry!" was his immediate response that joyful good nature coming forward so easily. His eyes fluttered shut at the first warm, sweet sip (unfortunately missing Harry's rubbing at his damaged temple) and he made a happy little humming noise, announcing it to be, "Spot on," with a soft murmur. The last time he and Harry had had tea together had been before the dog test at Avalon, but somehow Harry had remembered exactly how Eggsy liked his cuppa. It made his heart get all  _mushy_ , that did. 

"Wait. You'd eat pizza? Wif me?" Eggsy asked slightly incredulous. "Wif everyfhing on it. 'Cept anchovies," he clarified, just to be sure Harry knew what he was getting into. It had been  _fucking ages_ since he'd had good pizza and fuck all if he wasn't gonna take Harry up on an offer like that! Eggsy loved pizza - like any sane person - but he'd always figured Harry would prefer fancier meals that required a daintier way of eating. Would Harry use a fork and knife or roll up those crisp sleeves and eat with those gorgeous, lethal hands? Oddly enough, the idea of seeing Harry Hart eat like one of his mates rather than a posh and monied man made Eggsy's pulse jump. Like Harry was brought more within his reach by the simple fact that he wasn't turning his nose up at Eggsy's guilty pleasure. He wouldn't ask Harry to eat pizza all the time, knowing that there were a lot of unhealthy consequences involved (and wasn't he just getting to be so damn mature, worrying about the cholesterol levels of the man he'd fallen madly in love with... or was that called being smitten?), but once in a while? " _Hell yes_ , Harry!" he added right on the heels of his surprised words, hoping hard that Harry wouldn't change his mind. 

\----- 

Harry hummed his own appreciation in return as he took his own first sip, tasting the hot drink and letting it settle on his tongue, smoky and complex. Even though Merlin didn't have any milk in the fridge (he  _had_ been away for quite some time, and Harry honestly didn't even know just how long since the whole Poppy ordeal had started), the tea was still a hundred thousand times better than any of the ignoble swill they had had the indecency to call 'tea' back at Statesman HQ. And,  _well_ , having Eggsy's warm, sincere appreciation over something as simple and basic as a cup of tea, and over the fact that,  _yes_ , Harry  _did_ still remember how he took it - it was doing all sorts of ridiculous things to the older man's insides, twisting and squeezing his chest in a wholly absurd, yet absurdly pleasant fashion. 

"Just because I enjoy the finer culinary arts does not mean I cannot enjoy the less sophisticated ones. Not to mention, pizza is a perfectly dignified and acceptable meal." Harry replied crisply, his usual composed tone giving way to softer hues, amusement and tiredness mixing in equal parts, etched into the lines of his face, unnoticeable but for the very few people who could read him well enough.  

"That is, unless you decide to make an abomination out of it, such as the one you're suggesting. There's no such thing as a pizza  _with everything on it_ , good Lord. I shan't allow that in my presence." The older spy added, clearly still playing along to his own little joke while resisting the urge to smile at Eggsy's rather clear excitement at something as apparently insignificant and banal as having pizza with him. "I'll be perfectly happy to have a 'pizza Capricciosa', no anchovies. Feel free to order your 'everything pizza'." 

\----- 

Eggsy's seaglass green eyes widened fractionally before he burst into a happy laugh. Harry Hart had the most wicked sense of humor. Silver suppositories and other snide remarks along with mock snobbery to tickle Eggsy's funny bone constantly.  _Popping one's cherry_  indeed. Eggsy bloody loved it! "Damn but it's good t'have you back, Harry. I'll have whateveh you're having." 

Still smiling softly Eggsy placed their order with quick thumbs, using the pizzeria website because -  _surprise_  - they had exactly what Harry had asked for. As he went about with the payment options, Eggsy wondered how many times Harry and Merlin had ordered exactly that. It was heartwarming, but sent a pang through Eggsy too. Thank everything Merlin had survived. Once the order was placed Eggsy set his phone aside and started unknotting his tie, letting it drape, popping open the first three buttons of his white shirt and undoing his sleeve cuffs so he could roll them up, baring toned forearms. Finally relaxed, Eggsy picked up his tea again and took a happy sip. "Site says 25 minutes. Mehrlin got a telly somewhere?" 

\----- 

This time around, Harry couldn't help the smile on his face. It was a small, fleeting thing born despite the tiredness and the deep-seated ache that had never left Harry since Merlin had gotten himself injured, if not well before then. But it was there nonetheless, because bless this boy, this precious young man, for reminding him of the brightness that could still be found in some things, in some people. And, well, Harry had a feeling he would need the reminder that much more in days to come. Harry wished he could have replied something old fashioned and brilliant, along the lines of ' _my dear boy, I was never gone at all' -_ but the truth was quite the opposite, in more ways than one, and to  _be_ back was something that Harry still wasn't quite sure he'd gained entirely for himself, something that he'd quite reached as of yet.  

"It will make you deeply re-evaluate your idea about pizza, I can tell you that much without the slightest fear of exaggeration," Harry replied solemnly, before taking another sip of his tea as if to cement that statement. The older spy then watched silently as Eggsy proceeded to tap their order in, or so he guessed, his eye following those deft, strong fingers as they worked over the tie, the collar, the sleeves, unveiling a few precious inches and slivers of unblemished skin.  

_Keep your lecherous gaze to yourself, old man. You've only just made it back home, or what's left of it. See that you at the very least maintain some sort of dignity while you're under the same roof --_ came the unbidden thought, sudden and unpleasant, but no less necessary and legitimate for it.  

"Indeed, yes. I'll show you." Making his way over to the living room, Harry showed Eggsy the rather impressive TV, around which Merlin had had his library built, all smooth wood and polished edges. "I might take advantage of these twenty-odd minutes and take a shower, if you'll excuse me. I won't be long." 

\----- 

"Yeah, good," Eggsy agreed as he walked with Harry into the library/entertainment room. "I'll have one after dinner yeah?" 

Plopping down on the couch with all that Chav attitude on display despite the remnants of his suit being there to remind him he was so much more now, Eggsy snagged the remote. He wished that it would be practical for them to switch into comfortable attire as they had in Harry's old flat during their 24 hours after the train test. Fuck but that day had been torture, spending time alone with Harry all dressed down and relaxed in the older man's personal space (or as Eggsy had been thinking of it then - his territory). Eggsy hadn't even minded all of the etiquette lessons Harry had run him through because it had been time spent  _with_  Harry and all of that lethal focus directed at  _Eggsy_. He'd been half on the edge of his seat, almost praying (if you could call it that) that Harry would have him. Take him to bed. Have him on the bloody dining room table or up against the wall for all Eggsy  _would not_  have protested. He'd been disappointed when the tension he had perceived as sexual had not come to a head (or even just head) in the slightest. And then the former Arthur had ordered him to shoot JB, he and Harry had fought spectacularly and then.... The worst fucking moments of Eggsy's life. The young man looked down at the remote in his hand, the telly still dark and quiet, and he let out a frustrated sigh through his nose, lips pursed. It wasn't fair. He'd never wanted much in his life, mostly content to run through his days, keeping his mom and Daisy as safe as he could. And then he had met Harry. 

From the moment Harry had completely stomped all over Dean's ‘dogs’ Eggsy had been infatuated. He'd've done any god damned thing to keep that wild and prim man's attention. He may not have had a thing for silver foxes before then, but from that moment it had been very much about Harry and what lay under all of those bespoke suits. Like his weird humor. And his overall weirdness as well. Now that they were passed the "avoided death by a hair" thing Eggsy felt caught in limbo. Tilde was right furious about the phone call from that other girl's tent at the music festival. She'd given him up after he'd refused to leave Harry's side any time soon. Honestly? Tilde had been fun but he would have been bloody miserable if he'd married her. Especially with Harry on this side of the lawn. Fuck, he had it bad. And Harry? Eggsy's instincts were screaming the man wanted him just as much, but Eggsy was terrified of risking what they did have for something that might completely end everything good and comfortable between them if it wasn't mutual. So here he sat staring stupidly at a remote control and pining for his mentor. Fuck his wonderful, frustrating,  _amazing_  life. 

\----- 

"I'll be sure to leave one for you, then" Harry quipped, unable to help himself. That particular, particularly stupid joke had been one his father had always seemed to be fond of, and it was one of the very few light, teasing snippets Harry could remember about his father, who - whenever the two of them would even meet - between Harry's boarding school and Richard Hart's military obligations - was usually far too busy being his stern, rigid, inflexible self to actually think about something as trivial as a joke.  

With a soft shake of his head to himself and at his own somewhat senile sense of humor (or, at least, so he thought it to be), Harry made his way back upstairs, making a beeline for the master bedroom where, by tacit agreement, he would be sleeping (and really, it was only fair to Merlin, as it was  _his_ house after all, seeing as he'd known Merlin for the majority of his living, breathing years on this green earth) to grab a change of clothes and his toiletries, before making his way to the bedroom. He didn't know how many clothes Eggsy had with him, but he  _had_ been on a rather long journey to the United States, so Harry hoped he had - at the very least - a comfortable change for himself. As for Harry, he didn't even bother to go through the things Statesman had so generously provided them with, choosing instead to take a few of Merlin's less worn clothing articles. They were exactly the same height and the months of relative inactivity on Harry's part had taken their toll on his bulk, shrinking him until he was no more than a man in good shape, and certainly not the perfectly fit superspy he'd been secretly proud of being. All the same, it was more than a little saddening to find that yet another puzzle piece failed to fit in, when comparing the present to the past.  

Trying not to dwell on it, Harry stripped once safely locked inside of the bathroom, took off his glasses last, and stepped into the shower, nearly moaning in pleasure when he felt the scalding hot water drumming on his muscles and loosening knots and tension he wasn't even aware of having. He tried, valiantly, not to think about the young man in the living room, the quite fit, quite lovely, dashing young man, and how he'd be taking a shower himself in a bit, because really, he was above that depraved nonsense, thank you very much.  

A quick lather, rinsing, and toweling off later, and Harry was slipping on some dark grey slacks and a burgundy shirt, courtesy of Merlin, and absently noticing that yes, just as he'd predicted, it was only  _slightly_ tight around his shoulders and chest, but almost unnoticeably so. It would do, until he got some clothes of his own. Once the glasses were back in place, Harry made his way back down to the living room, wondering whether their dinner had already arrived.  

"Eggsy...?" He called out softly, wondering if the younger spy had fallen asleep on the sofa, seeing as the TV wasn't even on. 

\----- 

Eggsy knew Harry wasn't above a little “dad humor" and he had laughed a bit when Harry had declared he would “be sure to leave Eggsy a shower" but as soon as Harry had left, Eggsy sank into a quiet, thoughtless, almost meditative state, exhausted as he was from everything that had happened. Harry’s perfect voice jolted Eggsy out of his mindlessness before he'd really realized that much time had passed. "Yeah! M'good!" But just as he managed to get his feet under him, the doorbell rang. "I’ve got it!" 

Eggsy fairly bounded to the door, checking cautiously through the peephole before pulling it open. He'd already paid plus tip so the hand off of two pies went in a blink and Eggsy locked back up one handed. "Oi! We eatin' in the dining room or at the telly?" 

Probably he shouldn't have bothered asking and poked his head into the dining room to see if Harry was already there waiting for him. He hadn't laid eyes on Harry yet and felt a touch of dread at the thought that maybe he had dreamed it all up and Harry really was a cold corpse still in some morgue somewhere in Kentucky. The very thought made his heart pang and race. 

\----- 

Just as Harry had been stepping into the living room area, the doorbell had rung and he'd all but seen a flash of dark suit trousers, stark white shirt and dark-blond hair whizzing across the room and towards the front door, clearly to get their pizzas.  

As he heard the brief exchange between the younger spy and the delivery boy, Harry headed over to the kitchen to grab a few essentials - if they were going to have an informal dinner, it would be done the right way, with all the informalities that a 'pizza night' called for. And if that made a quiet, gentle sense of domesticity sneak its way into Harry's bones, rattling the very foundations of his solitary lifestyle and mentality,  _well_... it didn't exactly surprise him that it was Eggsy that he would be seeking that with. His brain, however, didn't seem to pass on the opportunity to remind him that no, there was no way he could ever have any kind of domestic bliss with Harry because really, who was he kidding, and most of all, this wasn't just 'pizza night'. This was the eve following - yes - a great success, but that success had come at a great price. Far too great a price, really. But then again, couldn't a man enjoy a bloody pizza in front of the telly like any other bloke and not make a great big fuss out of it? Perhaps not, Harry thought ruefully. Perhaps Eggsy would be better off enjoying pizza night with someone else, someone who wasn't having a bloody existential crisis over a bloody informal dinner.  

"In front of the television, I should think. We might as well do this properly." Harry replied from the kitchen as he grabbed some napkins, a bottle opener, a knife to cut the pizza with, and two glasses, before joining Eggsy in the living room.  

"I do hope you got some beers, too. I would open one of Merlin's reserve  _Puligny-Montrachets_ , but it would not have enough time to breathe, I'm afraid." The older man added, joking once more in that perfectly candid tone that he would use. 

\----- 

_Thank Queen and Country,_  Harry's beautiful, cultured voice just kept answering. Eggsy's life at home before Harry had always been chaos. Shouting in rage but sometimes just the raised noise of living with a woman like his mum and of course with a baby sister. Dean had always been a prick, banging on all the time about how worthless and useless Eggsy was among many other things, though his mum hadn't really cottoned on until it was way too late to do anything. Being around Harry... was like living in utopia. Calm and orderly with plenty of affection, if not love of some kind to go around.  _Christ_  Eggsy was  _mad_  for the man! He saw Harry as the answer to so many of his needs and desires and heartache. Harry was quick to praise when Eggsy had done well, but just as quick to gently correct him when he fell short. Eggsy loved him heart, body and soul. He'd never felt anything like the devotion he felt towards the older man. 

It wasn't just the way Harry treated him either. Like an equal was nice, but it was just plain  _Harry_  that had nabbed his attentions. Eggsy loved that Harry was nothing like anything or anyone else Eggsy had ever known. He was a good man, a noble man. He was kind and sweet and  _weird as fuck_. And that sense of humor! Harry accepted Eggsy exactly as he was. He had groomed up a very chav lad but hadn't chiseled away the core of him in the slightest. Eggsy could still knock off his impersonation of Harry (the only thing he'd been able to do to get into Valentine's base as Chester King), and speak naturally, boldly even. More often than not Harry seemed to be all the happier for it. That Eggsy was still Eggsy under the sheen of posh. There were a million topics Eggsy Unwin could go on about when it came to Harry Hart. The only one that mattered was that he loved the man stupid. 

"Come off it! As if I'd forget a fhing lihke a six pack o' Guinness!" Eggsy was all grin as he followed Harry's voice to the entertainment room. He set the sweating six pack of dark lager bottles down and then eased the pizza boxes to the coffee table top beside it. Harry looked right fit in the casual pajamas, probably borrowed and still ten times better than the Statesman stuff he'd been sent with. Eggsy mourned the loss of Harry's favorite (and favorable) red robe for a moment then treated himself to keeping an eye on his mentor so dressed down as he went about skillfully pouring them a glass each. The crack and fizz from each cap seemed to stir his appetite and Eggsy couldn't wait to dig in. Finally Eggsy settled on the couch beside Harry and handed him his pint. "Alrigh’ fhen. Let's have it. Whot's fhis Caprese Pizza all about?" 

\----- 

Following Eggsy over to the sofa, Harry set down the few essentials he'd grabbed on the table and then sat down next to Eggsy, close but not close enough that they'd end up elbowing each other in the ribs whenever they had to lift their arms. Finally, everything seemed to be set. Eggsy handed him his pint, for which Harry thanked him, then clinked their glasses together and took a long swig, finding the cool, familiar drink to be refreshing and pleasant. Then, setting the glass down, Harry opened up the two pizza boxes and showed Eggsy their food with a flourish.  

" _Capricciosa._ It means capricious." Harry said, not without a hint of amusement. As an unapologetic, yet self-deprecating, self-mocking show-off, Harry couldn't hide his own occasional bit of fun whenever the situation arose.  

"Tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella cheese, mushrooms, olives, capers and artichokes. No anchovies, because  _someone_ explicitly requested so. Quite rich in toppings, as far as traditional pizzas go, but it's quite delicious, I can assure you".  

Taking out a plate, he cut up a slice for Eggsy and placed it on the plate, before handing it over. Once again, the domesticity of it all struck Harry right into his very core, shaking something he hadn't given himself the chance to think about, since that fateful day - those hours they'd spent together as candidate and sponsor, protector and protégé.  

Back then, however, things had been charged and weighed down with very different matters. Things had been  _very_ different, and what had been at stake hadn't made matters easy. Not to mention, both of them had changed since then. Eggsy was his own man now - a brilliant, reckless spy, one of the best agents Kingsman had ever had, living up to the Galahad codename in a way that made Harry enormously, endlessly proud. He hadn't even  _started_ to go through the files of Eggsy's successes (he was sure Merlin had back up, somewhere, and he  _would_ find it, even if it was the last thing he did) and yet he knew, he  _could_ see  _\--_ he  _had_ seen _,_ and what he'd seen had made him realize that not even Harry Hart, back when he'd first seen Eggsy Unwin's potential, had been able to foresee just  _how much_ potential Eggsy had, and just how much greatness he would achieve, both as a person and as an agent.  

Harry himself was a changed man. He was no longer simply the reckless gentleman spy, but rather someone who was still trying to get his bearings as it seemed that being responsible for the massacre of a few dozen innocent people, being shot at point blank range, losing an eye and being held captive in a self-removed, regressive mental state all kind of took their toll. 

\----- 

Eggsy took his plate and eyed the pizza on it with interest. Unlike a lot of the blokes in his age group, he was not a picky eater. This pizza wasn't too far off what he'd been contemplating.  

"Loohks good," he murmured and lifted the slice to take a bite. He chewed for a moment then groaned, helpless in love already. "Fhis  _is_  good! Somefhing lihke I was planning ‘sides a few toppings. I usually get it wif pepperoni, bacon, sausage, mushroom onion, an’ green pepper. I fhink the place I go adds Muenster int’fheir Mozzarella, which is fine by me. But fhis is reahlly good, Harry!" 

Even talking about something as simple as pizza with Harry Hart was captivating. He put everything of himself into even these simple types of things. At least it seemed like he did whenever it was just them. Honestly Eggsy was looking forward to a lot of just them time. Maybe if things went well and living together brought them even closer together.... maybe, just maybe.... Eggsy could work up the nerve to tell Harry how he truly felt. He'd never been so proud of someone he knew. Hadn't even known what it felt like to want to introduce someone to his mates and be like _, this one's mine thank you._  Not even with Tilde had he felt this way. 

_Tilde_. He'd thought they'd been made for each other in that sense that she was right there when he needed someone the most. He'd buried his feelings for Harry as best he could and courted her, but she had turned out to be exactly the worst kind of girlfriend. Well, except that she was an actual princess and not in any way that was good. Besides,  _Harry was back_. A little worse for wear, but here and waltzing his way right back to where he needed to be: an equal by Eggsy's side. 

"Mmf  _yes_ ,  _Harry_. Remind me t’let you pick the details always, yeah?" Eggsy finished his first slice in record time, obviously starving. 

\----- 

Eggsy's enthusiasm for something as simple as pizza was truly something to behold. It was infectious as it was brightening, and Harry had the confirmation once more that the rather trite, common saying that 'someone lit up the room', metaphorically speaking, did actually work for some people.  

Well, not some people - just Eggsy, really. His eyes would light up and he'd talk excitedly about something, not without receiving the smallest, lightest of scolding glances from Harry (really, it was more out of habit than actual need to correct Eggsy's manners, as Eggsy knew how to behave impeccably whenever he wanted to) whenever he'd talk with food in his mouth.  

The pizza was, however, very good - not the kind that Harry would necessarily choose for himself, but he figured some sort of compromise between his own, simpler taste in pizza and Eggsy's more voracious one was needed and, it seemed, also appreciated.  

"I must say, it does fall slightly outside of my usual taste in pizza toppings, but you might have to introduce me to this even more...  _capricious_ version of your pizza." Harry pointed out, smiling fondly to himself as he watched Eggsy wolf down his first slice and immediately move onto the second. Harry himself ate slowly, leaning ever so slightly over the plate as he didn't want to get Merlin's tasteful burgundy dress shirt stained, and also because he wasn't necessarily hungry, even though his body no doubt needed the fuel after countless tiring hours spent travelling. 

"Not  _always._ You seem to manage just fine on your own." The older spy replied with a small, fond smile once he'd finished his first slice, taking a long pull of his beer before sliding another slice onto his plate. "Shall we watch something?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly towards the television, wondering if either of them was even in the mood for any entertainment of the lighter kind. 

\----- 

"It's filling," Eggsy stated around half a mouthful referring to his own favorite pizza toppings. "More bang by the pound." 

Having inhaled three slices Eggsy finally took a moment for a long drink of his Guinness. He'd started drinking the stuff after that fateful afternoon at the Black Prince, feeling more connected to Harry by the simple act of sharing taste in lager. He wasn't like those crazy birds with a crush on some superstar, trying their best to be like enough as to catch their idol's eye, but he was a wee bit obsessed. Maybe. 

Eggsy wiped his fingers on a napkin as he put down his pint glass and snagged the remote again. "What's your poison?" He teased, neatening up his speech for a moment as he turned the telly on. He turned delighted light green eyes on Harry, pleased beyond measure that they were sharing such a quiet, intimate moment of domesticity. He wanted it to go on like this for the rest of his life! With maybe a few more perks picked up along the way. 

\----- 

Before he could reply, Harry stopped himself and gave Eggsy's reply a moment of thought. Ever since he'd first met the lad, it had been clear to Harry that some quirks and habits of his came from the issues of his upbringing. It had nothing to do with him being a chav, or growing up in the less than nice areas of London, and everything to do with  _how_ he'd been raised, courtesy of Dean and the other toxic, if not downright abusive aspects of Eggsy's family (one that Harry felt partially responsible for, having taken Lee away from them all, or rather, Kingsman had). Eggsy appreciated a pizza most because it was  _filling,_ not because of the fact that it tasted best.  

Suddenly, pizzas with 'everything on them' made perfect sense, and Harry mentally chastised himself for it. He made a mental promise to himself to try Eggsy's favorite 'everything pizza' from his favorite place, if not go as far as finding out which one it was, and getting it for him as a surprise. Perhaps that would do, yes - whenever things had settled a bit, Harry would find the time to work his magic and let it happen - if only to see the smile and the look on that precious face.  

"I assume they won't have  _My Fair Lady_ on tonight, so I'll be happy to watch whatever strikes your fancy, really." Harry replied as he finished his second slice and took another long pull of his beer, secretly happy that Eggsy had chosen one of his favorite beers to have their dinner together. 

\----- 

"Mehrlin got On Demand?" Eggsy asked in reply even as he was already surfing through the features of Merlin's television service. "Shit, bruv," Eggsy muttered after a moment the expletive slipping out in awe. "Are fhere any channels Mehrlin don' have?" 

Even after a few years of Kingsman's privileges, Eggsy still couldn't entirely wrap his mind around some of the insane luxuries in certain areas. He just couldn't picture Merlin kicking back and enjoying a pint with his Kingsman mates, with  _Harry_ , and watching.... more than half of what he was flipping through right there. 

"Fhere we go," he murmured in satisfaction as he pulled up a BBC special on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. "Fhis is lihke a series. Fhey did Edgar Allen Poe last time I saw... Fhink fhey've done uh... The lady whot wrote Peter Rabbit or somefhing too." 

Eggsy was all smiles, clearly pleased with himself and he was sure it was obvious. He felt a bit closer to Harry's level when he felt more educated. Kingsman had done a lot for him in the ways of the worldly and educated, but even Kingsman could only make up so much for years without opportunity. Eggsy had tried to keep himself from becoming a mindless piece of shit like so many of the boys from his school. Or the other young men that had dropped out of the marines. 

Harry had been in the army. Eggsy lost himself briefly on the mental image of Harry all done up in dress. Damn fit and hot as fuck was what came of that train of thought. He wondered briefly if Harry still had his old uniforms. Eggsy did. But then... It was likely Harry's army things had got blown up like poor Mr. Pickle. Mentally shaking himself free of such thoughts, Eggsy finished his Guinness and cracked open another after setting his plate aside. He glanced over, saw Harry still had half a pint and leaned back knees falling wide. His kneecap just brushed Harry's calve on the side below his knee like that and Eggsy pretended hard not to notice, taking a forced casual sip of his lager and praying Harry wouldn't think anything of the casual, familiar contact. Eggsy's heart raced and he couldn't hear one word from the telly because of it. Harry was alive and  _right fucking there_. And Eggsy felt hot and tight all over just from that snuck in bit of touch. He'd had so little good touch, warn and friendly intimate contact (except from his mates of course but even that was limited at best) that it felt entirely, deliciously devious and no little bit  _wonderful_. So he stayed as he was, stared at the telly, and prayed that Harry left it alone. 

For the first time in a very, very long time, Eggsy was well-fed, unbattered and  _fucking happy_  despite the pang of lonely desire he always had when he let himself get too close to his desire to have more with Harry. More and more until they were in it all together. And why couldn't they? Eggsy took another sip right in the heels of the first. He knew why. Because Eggsy was too afraid of rejection and the ruination of this very thing  _right here_. This thrilling, heart thumping, pulse pounding  _could be_. 

\----- 

Harry smiled softly to himself as Eggsy expressed his wonder and amazement at the range of channels Merlin's television seemed to offer. Harry himself had never been much of a telly kind of bloke, but he did remember the countless evenings spent right on that very same sofa (Merlin was so bloody fond of it, he'd dragged it from house to house), Merlin and him, during Harry's Kingsman training or Merlin's, or before then, during the army, when they were on leave and their much younger selves would spend hours talking and laughing and sharing stories and dreams and tales of their respective jobs and tasks.  

"I have every reason to believe our good Merlin obtained all those broadcasting channels just for the sheer fun of it, Eggsy. Hacking into things is one of his many specialties, as you well know." Harry replied before he finished another slice, now more than half through his pizza, then washed it down with some Guinness.  

He glanced up at Eggsy's choice and was surprised to find that he hadn't chosen a movie or a tv series, or anything as immediately and easily entertaining, but rather some sort of documentary on the life and works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Harry didn't even know why he was surprised anymore -- Eggsy was clearly no longer simply the chav who he'd met over a year prior outside of that police station. He had clearly come such a long way, and in more ways than one. It just made him so immensely proud, to see that it had to do with more than just plain and simple culture, the kind that people spent years on books trying to acquire. Yes, he still had much to learn, but Harry found that he was more than happy to show him, teach him, when the timing was right and if Eggsy was happy to learn, which he usually was. His enthusiasm, his curiosity seemed to be limitless, and Harry knew that that was a truly precious thing, and it made him love ( _yes, for it was love indeed, no use in beating around the bush; he was too old for it anyway_ ) Eggsy all the more for it.  

"I used to love his Sherlock Holmes stories, growing up." The older spy said, conversationally, as he poured himself and Eggsy some more Guinness, even though Eggsy's glass was more than half full. "I fancied myself a detective, before becoming enamored with butterflies." 

\----- 

Relief and an unexpected wash of pleasure settled in Eggsy's chest when Harry didn't immediately pull away from Eggsy's sly attempt at physical contact. His knee was warm pressed close against Harry's leg and that single point of contact held the majority of Eggsy's focus. This was as close to a dream in reality as Eggsy had ever been. This and Kingsman. Having a purpose had made his life feel so much more worthwhile. Harry had given that to him. The only thing he still wanted for was the heart of the man beside him as fairy tale and romantic as that sounded. Eggsy couldn't help it, preferring the soft, loving passion of the older films he enjoyed so much to the flings and drama of his own generation. He wasn't above sex for the fun of it, obviously, but he wanted commitment and amorous ardor. He wanted domesticity, unquestionable loyalty, all the same qualities he wanted to offer his chosen partner. To Harry Hart, if he ever could. 

"Thanks, Harry," he murmured over the rim of his refilled pint. He sighed a happy sound and licked lingering lager from his lips before commenting, "I reahlly lihked The Hound of Baskerville. Never got a chance t'read the rest of'em." 

He felt his eyelids getting heavy as he lounged back against the couch cushions. This would be a perfect evening in if it weren't for all the responsibilities hanging over their heads and the fact there wouldn't be a night of cuddling under the covers and amazing morning sex after. It was still a perfect evening even so. 

"Never thought beyond bein' a soldier really. Figured I'd get that done... an' figure the rest out later on." 

\----- 

Harry hummed absent-mindedly, as he thought about his days back at boarding school, when things had been far from easy for him and he often found solace in books, amongst other things. The stories revolving around the mysterious and yet aloof, brilliant sleuth had been constant companions, allowing him to escape from the suffocating, stifling walls of Harrow's centuries-old rooms and halls and hallways.  

Just as he was about to suggest Eggsy a few of Conan Doyle's short stories to read, seeing as he had his very own copy, one that he had worn out with how much he'd read and re-read its pages, Harry then realized that, with every probability, that particular, particularly beloved book was no more than ashes.  

Once again, he felt the gaping, tremendously painful hole separating him from... everything that had been, everything from  _before._ He still didn't know what had exactly happened to his home, but he'd long since deduced the fate that had befallen it, without any need to ask the question explicitly.  

"A fan favourite, no doubt." Came Harry's momentarily lame reply, more than a little flat even to his own ears. He shook himself out of it, or tried to at least - because dammit, he was a gentleman after all, and Eggsy was so delightfully at ease, so wonderfully content, that it felt like a crime to tarnish that in any way.  

"Well, if anything, your soldier training was of great help, though I can't but still be glad that your perspectives are now... significantly enlarged." Harry replied as he finished off the last of his pizza and sat back himself with a happy little sigh, nursing his pint of Guinness, quietly content with Eggsy's closeness, the warmth coming off of him in waves, like a familiar, comforting thing. Glancing sideways at Eggsy, he noticed the younger spy's evident tiredness, and was reminded of just how much they'd been through in the past few days. They both needed sleep, and dearly so. 

"I'm afraid I'll have to be the annoying, responsible person, however, and suggest that we both head upstairs to get ready for sleep. We both dearly need the rest." 

\----- 

Eggsy tucked his chin and quietly groaned a soft, "Mmmmnnnnghff...." then finished off his pint, licked his lips and grunted an equally soft, "Yeah alrigh’. Gonna have fhat shower now. See ya in the mornin', Harry." 

With a little 'omf' noise, Eggsy hauled himself to his feet. He started gathering up their trash (his own pizza was as gone as Harry's) and took the leftover Guinness to the fridge. He set the boxes by the rubbish bin to be dealt with in the morning, and then made his way up to his room. He snagged fresh boxers, a T-shirt and his kit, then headed into the bathroom. 

Merlin's shower was a slice of heaven. The moment he stepped into the hot, pounding spray Eggsy groaned and swore as still sore muscles and bruised flesh lit up and then warmed. 

"Fuck fhat's lovely..." he muttered and finally started washing up. Harry had taught him almost from the start to make sure to lotion his hands to keep his callouses from being too obvious, so the broad palms sliding soap over his body were pleasant. He was too tired for a wank though after spending that kind of time with Harry he gave it a very solid thought or two. 

In the end he climbed out, toweled off, tidIed up after himself, got dressed and headed off to bed. He was out before his head hit the pillow. 

\----- 

"Yes, alright. Good night, Eggsy." Harry replied softly, more than a little fondly, as he watched Eggsy getting up and cleaning the scraps ad boxes and empty cans from their dinner.  

Thanking him quietly for it, Harry waited a handful of minutes before moving from the sofa, putting away the last few things and checking the house security for the night before heading upstairs himself. He heard the water running in the shower and  _most definitely_ and  _most determinedly_ did  _not_ think about Eggsy currently standing naked under the shower spray, thank you very much. Exhaustion and jet lag from their trip were playing annoying little tricks on his mental control and frankly, it was starting to happen with worryingly increasing frequency.  

Stepping into Merlin's room felt weird, almost unsteadying, Harry thought. He'd never been in this room much, of course, but the details scattered around it, amongst its objects and furniture and the paintings on the wall, they all made for a rather dizzying picture. Still, Harry had to remind himself that Merlin was quite alive, though not as fine and in health as Harry would have wanted him to be. Still, it was more than he could have hoped for, and he was immensely, immeasurably grateful for that.  

The superspy made quick work of getting ready for bed, and it was only once his head hit the pillow that his over-tired brain seemed to catch up with the emotional implications of what had happened. Tossing and turning to no avail, minutes, then hours passed, until Harry eventually fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.  

 


	2. There's something in the silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter was inspired by: [ "Get Ready For It" by Take That](https://open.spotify.com/track/00WL0qY5YpJeAdQVRySwEz?si=iB-7lKt3QWihgPxQ6R1eCQ)

Even while asleep, Harry’s brain was riddled with thoughts and worries, replaying mental images of what had occurred, what had happened, what he remembered, what he didn't remember, which haunted him almost as much as what he  _did_ remember... And remember he  _did --_ with startling clarity. The blood, the people, the inability to control himself, to think, to act upon his own actions, taken away from him, his own mind stripped of everything...  

With a start, Harry woke up, breathless and covered in sweat, his good eye wide open and yet unseeing in the darkness that filled the room.  

After a few moments, as he regained his bearings and the reality of his wakefulness seemed to set in, the superspy glanced to the side; the clock read 5:37 am, which meant that he had slept less than three hours. Harry knew he should be thankful that nothing had happened -- no major nightmares and, most of all, he hadn't woken Eggsy up, which was something that he had been more than a little concerned about.  

With a heavy sigh, Harry got up, headed to the bathroom and, one long, cool shower and a change of clothes later, made his way downstairs to fix himself some tea. The following hours were spent doing everything and nothing -- Harry went through his emails, read a little, went through Merlin's pantry, made a quick shopping list, making a quick trip to the nearest Tesco (thankfully only a block away) and then, when he returned, whisked up some breakfast for Eggsy.  

So it was that around 10am, Harry was by the stove, wearing one of Merlin's ridiculous aprons over his white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up and no tie, while flipping a few pancakes and checking on the bacon and the eggs, as he waited for Eggsy to get up. 

\----- 

It was the smell of bacon -  _greasy, savory, sizzling bacon!_  - that pulled Eggsy from his not quite awake morning doze. Eggsy, with his face half smushed into his pillow, groaned the groan of a man in love (it could only be  _Harry_  downstairs cooking bacon) and muttered, "Aces!" muffled by his pillow before rolling out of bed. Still half asleep, Eggsy stumbled to the loo, relieved himself and washed up a bit. Looking up into the mirror, Eggsy turned his face this way and that, sculpted jawline and chin jutted. Yeah, he was do for a shave. After breakfast then, he decided, and patted his face and hands dry on the hand towel. Then he followed that rich, enticing scent right into the kitchen. 

"Top o'the mornin' t'ya," Eggsy teased with a lazy smile as he stepped into the kitchen scratching his belly under his shirt lazily, unwittingly revealing a little strip of tight abs and treasure trail while covering a yawn with the back of his other hand. Tilde had never made him breakfast. Even that last morning in Harry's home had been catered. It stirred up warmth and joy low in his stomach to see Harry at the stove. 

"Fuck, fhat smells amazing. You're the fucking Guvneh, Harry. Please tell me fhat says 'kiss the cook'," he added for good measure referring to the apron. Grinning, he slipped up behind Harry, aiming to filch a strip of the cooked bacon from the plate it sat on. If he was lucky, he'd get the bacon piece before Harry whacked his hand or something. If he wasn't lucky, Harry would stop him somehow and send him to the table to wait. 

\----- 

As he heard Eggsy's voice greeting him, still more than a little rough and sluggish with sleep, Harry glanced over his shoulder briefly to flash Eggsy a smile and  _not_  to notice his relative state of undress -- as much “undress” as pajamas could be, really, Harry mentally chided himself, feeling like a lecherous old man once again. He was simply far too fond of Eggsy like this: all sleepy eyes and soft smiles, skin he was sure to be warm and still pliant from sleep, the soft sounds that he'd make when Harry would hold him and wake him up by pressing fluttering kisses into the skin of his nape, then peppering his lips lower, and lower...  

Clearing his voice to dispel the traitorous thoughts which had snuck up on him so suddenly, Harry's brow furrowed briefly at Eggsy's words. "I'm afraid Merlin's extravagant taste in aprons is only limited to bright colours and frilly - if perfectly useless - front pockets." Harry replied, though his mind, once more, slipped a single thought between the cracks in his mental armour ( _though I probably wouldn't mind if you_  did  _kiss the cook_ ).  

Pushing the thought away, Harry noticed just in time as one of Eggsy's hands sneaked from his side (his  _good_  side, thankfully) to snatch a piece of bacon. On pure instinct and quick-fire reflexes, the older spy's hand shot down and closed over Eggsy's wrist, stopping him just short of taking a strip.  

"Tut tut.  _Patience_ , my dear Eggsy." He chided, his tone so excessively mellifluous and crisp that it was quite clear that there was only a joking intent behind it. "Now why don't you go and set the table for us? Everything should be ready in a minute.” 

\----- 

Eggsy's wrist went slack in Harry's warm grasp, yielding immediately. He'd expected as much, given he would never have taken advantage of Harry's blind side. No way. Never. 

A soft, amused laugh left him. "Yeah alright. Can't blame a bloke for tryin'," he said with that little bit of joy he always expressed when interacting with Harry, his voice a little breathy and delighted. When Harry released his wrist, Eggsy felt a pang of loss. Harry's fingers had been firm and absolutely wanted, holding Eggsy's wrist just on the comfortable side of tight. He would have gladly stayed there - hell, for a brief moment he'd fantasized pressing up against Harry's back, snuggling and nuzzling while he looped his other arm around Harry's fit waist... but he shook that thought off fast before he embarrassed himself. Shuffling away, Eggsy went about setting the table as he'd been asked. He poured them each tea from the pot Harry had left steeping and then a glass of water for each of them as well. He made a mental note to do up the dishes before they went to spring Prince from his overnight. He'd be damn happy to have the little bugger back. He missed JB fiercely at the best of times, the loss still very fresh. He couldn't imagine how Harry must be feeling losing Mr. Pickle a second time now. 

"Bet Prince is just bustin' t'get outta fhat place. You fhink, fhey'll let us take'im right away?" 

\----- 

"I think you'll find that I actually  _can_ ," Harry replied smoothly, with that subtle teasing, amused tone of his that was often almost indistinguishable from his average crisp, composed eloquence.  

He glanced out of the corner of his good eye as Eggsy moved around and got the table set, but it was clear he did not need any guidance in moving around the kitchen; it was relatively small anyway, and there were only so many drawers and cupboards after all, since Merlin had always been a relatively solitary man. As soon as they were golden and perfectly cooked, Harry stacked up the pancakes on a plate, which he then carried over and set in the center of the table, along with the bacon and the eggs. It only took him a brief trip back to grab a few more things, including maple syrup, honey, sugar, fresh fruit and the like, which he set on the table as well.  

"I should think so, yes. If they've found no issue -- and I don't see why they  _should_ have -- I see no reason not to. I won't be above working a few tricks to get the authorities to release Sir Prince today." Harry replied, his expression softening fractionally at the idea of having that adorable little puppy with them once again (and the sheer fact that he was thinking in such plural terms, involving both him and Eggsy at the same time, was more than a little alarming). He thought about Mr. Pickle with a brief pang of sorrow and melancholy, but he knew that there was nothing to be done about all that after all. 

"Shall we?" Harry asked, gesturing to their breakfast table. 

\----- 

Eggsy grinned at Harry's snarky ‘I can and I will blame you for trying' jest and took his seat with eagerness all over his face. His stomach let out a loud growl (though Eggsy barely seemed to notice), and he immediately started loading his plate up. "Whateveh you gotta do. Fhat little pup's probably scared shitless, all alone wif strangers looking after'im. Mm, fhis smells like heaven, Harry!" 

With maple syrup drizzled on his pancakes, Eggsy popped the first bite into his mouth. The moan that rumbled in his throat was as unstoppable as the rising the sun. His mum wasn't much of a cook and there weren't nothing better than home cooked meals. "Fucking hell, Harry! Was you a chef in anofher life or somefhing? Mmf... Ain't had a bad fhing off ya." 

So he was talking with his mouth full. So what? It was that good! Eggsy closed his eyes and just let himself sink into the domesticity of that very moment. He could live like this forever just him and Harry and Prince... with good food and a safe home and the occasional bout of spiked adrenaline to keep them young. Too bad it was very unlikely that Harry would want to take on a whelp like Eggsy as anything beyond the term protégé. Harry probably liked blokes with experience. Lots of experience. That wasn't to say Eggsy didn't have any at all. Eggsy took up a piece of bacon and chewed it slowly as he reasoned out that Harry deserved someone who knew the finer points of romance and good sex and why would he want to tie himself to someone who didn't know even a quarter of the amazing things he was sure Harry knew. Harry had had a plan recruiting Eggsy and while Eggsy knew he could absolutely call Harry a very good friend now - their bond transcending even death as it would seem - he couldn't convince his battered and terrified psyche that Harry could find someone so much younger... interesting enough to have a go of it with. 

\----- 

Harry hummed absent-mindedly as he sat, waiting for Eggsy to serve himself before doing the same. He stacked up a few pancakes, wanting to eat the eggs and bacon later, as cold pancakes were even worse than cold bacon. Drizzling some honey and adding fresh fruit on them before tucking in, Harry wondered about little Sir Prince, wondering how he'd adapt to their precarious situation. He hadn't come to know the puppy all that well, seeing as he'd only had the chance to spend a little time with him back at Statesman HQ, once Poppy and the Golden Circle had been dealt with. They had also been waiting with bated breaths to see how Merlin would recover from the more dangerous, initial phases of his medical situation, between the operation and the medically induced coma that the doctors had deemed necessary, so it was hardly a surprise that he had paid little attention to the puppy. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Eggsy all but  _moaned_  as he ate, making a much more basic and primal hunger stir within him -- a sensation which he then promptly crushed and pushed back down into the recesses of his mind.  

"I'm glad you like them. I wasn't sure you liked blueberries so I didn't make my infamous blueberry and oat pancakes." The older man replied, feeling rather chuffed from Eggsy's praise, as he wasn't exactly a stranger to cooking and it was always more than nice to receive compliments, especially if they came from Eggsy, and with such enthusiasm to boot.  

"Some time ago, I simply grew tired of the same old homemade meals, so I decided to learn how to cook properly, and more than a little creatively. Cooking is an art, really -- even something as basic as making pancakes from scratch or knowing the exact golden point when bacon is at its crunchiest without being tasteless or burnt. I'll be happy to cook for you sometime, or perhaps teach you. It's been a surprisingly comforting thing, especially after a stressful mission." Harry mused, uncharacteristically open about something so personal. In the past, it had felt right to do something harmless and even somewhat good with his hands. When missions had gone wrong, when he had failed to save people, when he had failed in general, when he had felt that there was more blood on his hands than beneath their skin... Cooking had been a safe, if rather futile haven, yet it definitely had its perks. 

\----- 

"I lohve blueberries,” Eggsy murmured, but it was the rest of what Harry said that had him huffing a light little scoff. “Me? Learn t’cook? Nah, bruv. I burn everyfhing. I mean my mum's not much betteh, but even she wouldn't let me near the stove." Eggsy hadn't completely forgotten everything Harry had taught him. He wasn't inhaling the food though it was a near thing when Harry had - inadvertently - made his absolute favorite breakfast. "Fhis is reahlly good. Lihke reahlly good, Harry. Fhanks for cooking yeah?" 

Looking up from his plate Eggsy smiled, bright and easy. Harry was a solid steady presence and for Eggsy, whose life had been almost horrible and then a completely wild whirlwind, the older man was just exactly what he needed. "Fhink I'll give my mum a call. See how she an'Dais are doin'. You fhink we could drop by the house. Check in on'em wif Prince in tow? Dais'll lohve'im!" 

His mum had never properly met the man who had pulled her son from the proverbial gutter and given them all a better life. It was probably time. If Harry was alright with it. And if he wasn't - Eggsy took another bite of the delicious, amazing bacon - well, some other time then. No big deal. 

\----- 

"Nonsense, I'm sure you can learn. All it needs is care and a bit of attention -- both of which you are more than capable of. Everything else is merely an acquired skill, from sautéing to a flambé." Harry replied as he finished a bite of his pancakes, then took a few sips of his tea. Perhaps he needed something stronger, coffee maybe -- the tiredness from his nearly sleepless night was weighing on his mind and his eyes (rather, eye) like a burning, heavy thing.  

"Of course. I'm glad that you're enjoying it, it was hardly anything demanding." He countered with a soft smile, once again feeling the soft, warm glow of the praise.  

It still amazed him, how grateful and enthusiastic Eggsy was for the smallest things, for whenever Harry would do something for him, something which was often not even that special. The sheer thought made Harry's chest squeeze fiercely, and Harry vowed that, even though it would only ever be as a friend, he would give Eggsy everything, he would pamper him, fill his days with niceties, thoughtful gestures and gifts as often as he could. Eggsy deserved all that and more, a thousand times over.  

"I suppose we could do that, yes. I don't know how long the procedure with Sir Prince will take, but I imagine it shouldn't be too much of a fuss." Harry mused at first, before remembering that perhaps he might not be the most welcome of people to Eggsy's mother. He knew that it had happened eighteen years prior, but to some extent, he still felt responsible for Lee's death, for having taken Eggsy's father away from him, and a husband away from his wife. He hadn't seen her since, but he wasn't sure she would take too kindly to his presence.  

"Eggsy, I... I must ask if you're sure about this. Your mother... Are you entirely certain my presence won't be a problem?" 

\----- 

Eggsy looked up from lifting a forkful of eggs to his mouth, stopping halfway he slowly put his fork down. Clearing his throat, Eggsy laid his fork down. 

"Mum asked me afteh I laid Dean out at the Black Prince how fhis had all come about," Eggsy stated as he stared hard at his mostly empty plate. His brow was furrowed as he did his best to explain. He needed Harry to know that his self-imposed debt to Lee Unwin had long since been repaid. "I told'er as much of the trufh as I could. She told me she felt terrible for how she'd treated you fhat night. Dad made 'is own choices. No one else can be blamed for fhat. I told her how good you'd been t'me an’ she reahlly wanted t' meet you again, t’fhank you for being so kind t’us, but I told her you'd been called away to a foreign nation for fittin's for a royal family's upcoming look an’ you might not be back for a while." 

Eggsy huffed a self-deprecating laugh then finally looked up to make eye contact with one whiskey brown eye and a patch. He didn't seem to notice that his fists were clenched tight on either side of his plate. "I had fhis whole elaborate fib: you was gonna fall in love an' choose t'stay fhere." 

\----- 

Harry listened attentively to Eggsy's words, trying to picture Michelle in his mind -- the same Michelle who'd wanted him gone all those years ago, who'd probably even wanted to see him dead if only to have Lee back, and in a way, Harry had wanted that too, back then -- while Eggsy talked to her. He wondered how much Michelle actually knew, how much Eggsy had told her. He knew the only issue with her knowing about Kingsman would be regarding her own safety, because she obviously didn't pose any kind of concern in terms of secrecy. Kingsman hardly even existed anymore as of that very day, so it wasn't like there was much to be concerned about. On the other hand, agents such as himself and Eggsy had no doubt harvested many enemies during their missions, as the latest events concerning the Golden Circle had quite clearly demonstrated, though it had hardly been the first threat to the agency’s survival and existence. 

He remained silent for a while, only taking a few sips of tea in between, his own breakfast mostly finished, as he thought about what Eggsy was saying. It was hard to slide that new information into his mind, make it fit into the painfully sharp and jagged puzzle pieces that constituted his memories and feelings from those events, from nineteen years prior, from Lee's death, from Michelle's reaction to it, to  _him._ To think that Michelle was not only  _not_ mad at him, she was actually  _grateful,_ and she wanted to meet him?  

To be fair, Lee's death had been a blow, back then, a stain on Harry's otherwise stainless, perfect, irreproachable track record. His missions had the highest success rate, he held the highest number of kills, cleanest results in the whole of Kingsman's records. And yet... he had had his own failures, he'd made his own mistakes, and plenty of them, and often of no small measure. But ever since he'd come to know Eggsy, everything had been amplified a thousandfold. He felt responsible, he felt like Michelle meant so much more if only because of  _Eggsy._ Everything meant so much more to him ever since he'd had Eggsy in his life, and Eggsy would never know that yes, while Harry had taught him a great deal, nothing in Harry's life had ever been precious and meaningful and significant before Eggsy, and that was something that far surpassed any etiquette lesson or other similar shit.  

"Eggsy, I'd be  _honoured_ to see your mother again, especially since she's so inclined towards me. I..." Harry paused, in uncharacteristic uncertainty. "I don't necessarily agree with what she believes in regards to your father, much like I don't believe I deserve her gratitude. But I  _will_ be glad to see her."  

Another brief pause followed, before Harry's steely Britishness kicked in and he mentally chided himself for perhaps taking matters a step too far. He noticed Eggsy was tense, his fists clenched at the sides of his plate, and he wondered what exactly had made the younger man so tense. Perhaps talking about his father had? Or the fact that he'd mentioned the year he believed Harry to be dead? That always seemed to cast a shadow over his eyes, his entire demeanor.  

Deciding to push past it all and try to make light of the situation, he finished the last few bites of his breakfast and his tea along with it. "What did you tell your mother? So that, should the need arise, our stories will match." 

\----- 

Eggsy felt his nails bite hard into the flesh of his hands. Harry seemed to have no idea of his worth. Eggsy had never really known his father. Sure when he was younger he would have given anything to have Lee Unwin back. And maybe some people would think it horrible of him, but he  _knew_  Harry. Lee was just a faded memory and an empty space at his  _mother's_  side. Harry had done so much for him, guided him, been there for Eggsy however briefly he'd originally been allowed. Harry had given up his entire life and nearly died to protect the world. Honestly, as he'd said to the old Arthur: he'd rather be with Harry. Had he been given the choice between resurrecting Lee Unwin or Harry Hart. He would only have hesitated on behalf of his mum. He still would have chosen Harry. Swear down. 

Swallowing hard, hating even thinking about having nearly lost this amazing man, this beacon in his life, Eggsy let out a low sigh, unclenched his hands and dropped them to his thighs below the table. They were shaking and he didn't want Harry to see, but he was well aware that Harry probably already had. 

"Look. M'gonna tell you as many times as you need t'hear it. You've paid whoteveh debt you fhought you owed. It’s  _jus'_ me an' you now. Lee Unwin's been laid t'rest almost nineteen years. I wanna leave'im fhat way. You get me?" 

Clear, light green eyes held steady almost daring Harry to disagree. 

\----- 

If there was one thing Harry Hart could honestly say that he was good at, it was reading people. He knew how to read their tells, guess their thoughts within a pretty decent margin, and, as it happened to be after decades of working in the army and in an intelligence agency, often foresee their moves and offences when it came to attacks and fights. He was simply good at noticing things and, paired with an instinct that the former agent Whiskey himself had praised, Harry knew when certain things he noticed were actually  _meaningful._  

The fact that Eggsy wore his heart on his sleeve except when he had to go undercover, or during a mission in general, made it surprisingly hard, however, to actually understand what his body language meant, sometimes -- being so out in the open seemed to be almost confusing to Harry, now and then. So that when Eggsy hid his clenched, slightly trembling hands beneath the table, Harry simply furrowed his brow the slightest bit, but said nothing, wanting to wait until Eggsy had spoken to listen and understand what the younger agent really wanted to tell him. And listen he did. He took a few beats of silence to think his own reply through.  

He understood where Eggsy was coming from, although only a part of him was soothed and put to rest with those words, Harry understood that the matter was settled, so he chose not to counter and explain his own position further. If Eggsy wanted Lee Unwin to remain resting in peace, then Harry would respect that and say no more on the matter.  

"Of course. I do get you, Eggsy." Harry replied at first, keeping his own voice level and calm, meeting Eggsy's gaze with a single whisky-colored eye, and a darkened lens. "Would you mind telling me what you told your mother?" 

\-----

Filling his lungs with a deep, calming breath, Eggsy let it out slowly. The small moment taken seemed to calm him a bit and he slowly brought his hands back topside of the table. Picking up his fork again, he speared one of the last few bites of his pancakes. "Ain't much more t'say really. I told'er fhat you'd been sent away on assignment an' fhen I was gonna have her believin' you fell in love wif someone foreign an' decided t'retire. I hadn't gotten fhat far yet fhough. I ain't told her nofhing fhat wasn' obvious. She fhinks I'm still jus’ apprenticin' wif Kingsman tailor. None the wiser yeah? Now I'll jus tell'er you're back an' we had a moment t'visit." 

Yeah. His mum would be ecstatic and Eggsy had to admit he was really missing Daisy. She was probably twice the size she'd been when he'd last seen her. He couldn't wait for her to meet Harry. Harry would be the first nice older man Daisy had ever met up close in person. All her doctors had been women and her mum only dated pricks apparently. Smirking a little - thoughts of Daisy always eased his mind - Eggsy polished off his breakfast. 

"You fhink we could stop by the toy store on the way oveh? I haven't seen Dais in weeks." 

It wouldn't do anyone any good to dwell on the past. Harry was here and alive and still fit as fuck. Even better they were sticking together which went a long way towards soothing Eggsy's overprotective and... romantic sides both. Nothing was happening to Harry  _ever_  again so long as Eggsy still drew breath. 

\----- 

Nodding, Harry finished his tea and then looked down at his own hands for a few moments, running the matter over in his head. He felt rather horrible for having spoiled the mood in such a fantastic way. Eggsy had been so enthusiastic and downright  _moaning_ at the beginning of their breakfast, and the mental image of him padding barefooted into the kitchen, still sleepy and warm and soft, and then lighting up so happily when he found out about what Harry was cooking...  

And now, Harry had all but ruined it because he couldn't keep his own damned self-centered matters, thoughts and worries and guilt trips at bay, and had instead poisoned a perfectly normal, easy conversation between them. His own mood was shot to hell, but then again, maybe two hours of sleep kind of did that to a person who was already burdened with a hundred worries, including his own best friend still in nearly life-threatening danger.  

With a soft sigh, Harry rubbed his good eye before pressing two strong fingers to his temples, rubbing the throbbing skin there -- he  _really_ needed coffee.  

"Mhmm. I see. And what shall we tell her about my... injury? If she happens to ask." Harry asked, trying to keep a perfectly impassive voice as he asked that, while lifting one finger to point in the vague direction of his injured eye.  

"Well, I'm honestly rather glad you didn't have to tell her about my... supposed liaison with a foreign, if no doubt dashing man." Harry added, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest of smiles as he looked at Eggsy with amusement dancing in his eye (and, well, if he had just inadvertently revealed a certain bit of information about his own sexual inclinations, then he certainly wasn't ashamed of it, nor would he take it back). The sheer idea of falling in love with some Yankee, especially when mentally comparing that to Eggsy, had him mentally scrunching his nose in refusal.  

"Certainly. I would love to buy something for her myself, as well as getting something for your mother. Flowers, perhaps. We do also need to buy some essentials for Sir Prince, at least for these first few days." the older spy added. "I suggest we get going, then. We have a busy morning ahead of us." 

\----- 

 ** _Man_**. 

Harry had said  _man_. 

Eggsy's heart stopped just before it started to pound like crazy. He couldn't help it! That had been the single most concerning thing in all of his thoughts and daydreams of him and Harry getting together for a lifetime of happily ever after. It was all just ephemeral fantasy if Harry were into birds. But  _apparently_  he wasn't. 

"Uhm... maybe you was almost killed when the folks you was fittin' were attacked? For lihke... an assassination attempt or somefhing? So you came home?" 

It sounded plausible right? Eggsy felt like he couldn't get over the words "dashing man" if his life depended on it right then. Forcing himself to his feet as calmly and normally as he could, he gulped the rest of his cooled tea. Eggsy quickly snagged up the dishes. "I'll clean. You cooked, yeah? Be ready in thirty? I need a shave too." 

God he was a ball of energy all of a sudden!  Harry had said  _man_ and it was as if the floodgate holding back his hope of ever having something more with Harry had been split open a bit, like a large crack in a damn, letting out a heart-pounding rush of  _maybe_. Christ,  _if only_! 

\----- 

The fact that Eggsy hadn't immediately reacted when Harry had none-so-subtly expressed his rather clear inclinations towards men seemed to take a weight off of Harry's chest, one he didn't even know was there in the first place. He knew that Eggsy was as far as they came from being narrow-minded and, as a result, homophobic. He knew about Eggsy and his girlfriend, Tilde, the princess, which meant that, at the very least, Eggsy wasn't gay, like himself. Which didn't mean he couldn't be at least a hundred other things, have a thousand other possible sexual preferences, or have none, or something in between.  

Whatever it was, Harry found himself glad that apparently the matter didn't have to be settled nor talked about to begin with. And, well, considering how very not easy it had been for him growing up, being a closeted homosexual with a father such as his, it was almost touching, how easy and open minded Eggsy was. His upbringing, his supposed social status, all meant nothing -- because faced with a heart of gold such as Eggsy's, everything else seemed so much smaller and insignificant.  

"Yes, that sounds like a plausible idea. Perhaps a knife wound or a blow with a sharp object would be less suspicious, given what our American friends managed to do." Harry mused, before shaking his head and stopping Eggsy by placing a hand on his forearm. Even though Eggsy hadn't seemingly reacted in any way, he still looked somewhat... off. Like he itched to do something, like something was buzzing inside of him, something he couldn't get off his mind. Perhaps he was simply excited to see his mother and sister after such a long time, Harry thought. Either way, he hoped it did indeed have nothing to do with the little piece of information he had just shared.  

"While I appreciate the thought, it won't be necessary. We'd best get moving as soon as possible. Go and get ready, I can take care of the kitchen." 

\----- 

Eggsy had a powerful urge to peck Harry on the cheek, which he managed to rein in (just barely), but he couldn't stop his grin. "You're the Guvneh, Harry," he murmured and gripped the edge of the sink, muscled forearm flexing under Harry's grip as Eggsy balanced himself and rocked back on his heels like an excited child. "I'll be quick. Swear down." 

He covered Harry's hand with his for a brief squeeze, his heart just going molten chocolate lava cake as he pressed Harry's fingers into his own flesh. He was so fucking happy he couldn't contain it! "See you in fifteen fhen." 

Even though he didn't want to, he let go of Harry's hand and stepped back to let Harry at the sink. With a cheeky little salute, Eggsy trotted away and upstairs, grabbed his kit and some clothes from the bedroom, and shut the bathroom door. The face in the mirror staring back at him was  _beaming_. Putting his phone on the counter, Eggsy flipped it to a station of pleasant light rock hits and got started tidying up his ridiculous smiling mug. He couldn't help singing along a little here and there either. Not when he was in such a great mood! 

He emerged shortly after in a pair of comfortable jeans, a dark blue polo, his black bomber jacket with the yellow stripes down the arms, and white Converse on his feet. He had a snapback collection to rebuild but all things in time and all that. Hair soft and unstyled, Eggsy finally turned the music off on his phone, tossed his kit and sleeping clothes on the bed, and headed down to meet Harry in the front room not a minute late. "M'ready!" 

\----- 

Eggsy's skin, both beneath his own and covering it at the same time, had felt warm and soft to the touch, almost satin-like, the thin blond hairs barely visible, but still there, somehow softly palpable. Their touch had lingered for the briefest of moments, as Eggsy pressed his fingers to Harry's hand and squeezed -- and Harry’s mind was unable to let go of it, even once Eggsy had left.  

But Harry knew he had to push the thought away, for it clearly meant nothing. It had perhaps been nothing more than Eggsy's light-hearted, rather innocent way of showing Harry that he didn't mind, that things weren't any different between them even though Harry had just rather candidly told Eggsy in no uncertain terms that he was into men. And, well, Eggsy being at the very least into women, without a shadow of a doubt, it was still somewhat reassuring to Harry, in ways that he hadn't even known were necessary to him. He was a middle-aged man with no laughable amount of experience -- with, yes, indeed, both men and women. Growing up a few decades prior hadn't been easy for people who shared his proclivities, and well, honeypot missions hadn't meant exemption from targets of the female kind.  

To know that, one way or the other, it didn’t matter to him, was a relief to Harry. If anything, it did not seem to have made any difference -- Eggsy had seemed clearly excited about something, though Harry wasn't quite sure what about, as he had saluted him in that cheeky way of his, Harry had only responded with a simple nod, unsure what to make of it. Whatever it was, the young man seemed to be well past the earlier foul mood from their breakfast. 

Harry made quick work of cleaning up the kitchen and, by the time Eggsy was bounding back down the stairs like an overexcited puppy, Harry was checking his email and texts from his cutting-edge technology mobile phone (kindly given to him by agent Champagne, along with many other gifts) to see if Statesman had sent him any updates regarding Merlin, nursing a half-finished cup of black coffee. Looking up from his phone, Harry nodded, put away his phone and drained the last of his coffee, leaving the cup in the sink before heading to the front door, opening it for Eggsy.  

“After you.” He said as he held the door open, amused at seeing such clear excitement on Eggsy’s face, even though he wasn’t sure what had caused it. 

\----- 

The cab ride to London proper and the quarantine facilities just outside the airport came only after they had done all the other shopping they had intended to do that day. After a brief discussion, Harry and Eggsy had agreed to do their grocery shopping after visiting Eggsy's mum and sister, so they'd gotten Daisy a few stuffed animals and a bouquet of elegant, colorful flowers from Harry and a bottle of the fanciest champagne Harry could help Eggsy find as an apology from Eggsy for Michelle. He admitted to feeling bad for running off without a word to her. She had screamed and cried at him over the phone when he'd finally called her after the cure had been released. Apparently she'd thought he was dead in a ditch somewhere with his brains leaking out of his nose. He had felt really really awful. As they walked up to the front door Eggsy handed the champagne and gift bags to Harry. "Brace yourself, guv. She's loud lihke a bane sidhe." 

Eggsy let them in through the front door calling out into the townhouse, "Mum! Daisy! I've brought company!" 

" _EggyyyYyyyYyyy_!" The high-pitched giggly screech started from the living room, Daisy screaming as she ran. Her tiny bare feet were loud pounding down the hall, and Eggsy stooped and scooped his baby sister up as she barreled into him. He hoisted her, giggling and screaming, above his head as he spun nearly in place, nearly a pirouette, with her. 

" _Oh my, Dais_! Lookit you, sweetheart!" He brought her down to hug her tight and she wrapped her tiny arms tight as she could around his neck practically choking him. 

"Eggy! I luff you!" 

"I lohve you too, Daisy," Eggsy murmured hugging her tighter for just a moment. "You wanna meet my friend, Harry?" Eggsy glanced over as Michelle came to lean in the doorway of the foyer but kept most of his focus on Daisy. 

"'Arry?" Daisy inquired shyly peeking up from between her arm and Eggsy's neck. She studied Harry for a long moment with one wary eye then slowly sat back in Eggsy's arms expression serious. "Is 'e nice?" She whispered looking Eggsy in the eye  _very seriously_. 

"The nicest, Dais. Harry Hart is a real gentleman. Lihke in the movies." Eggsy turned to face Harry and settled Daisy on his hip so she could face him. "Harry, fhis is Daisy. Daisy, meet Harry Hart." 

\----- 

Their morning had been a fast-paced whirlwind of shops, stops, forms being filled, items being paid for and other such things, although it had all passed by very quickly, such that Harry had soon enough found himself standing by Eggsy's side, holding Sir Prince's leash in one hand and the gifts, champagne and flowers in the other, especially careful not to ruin the latter. He was only slightly nervous about meeting Eggsy's family -- apart from the whole matter regarding Lee Unwin, which Harry had dutifully been silent about ever since their conversation that morning, it almost felt (as ridiculous as it sounded) as if there were some sort of anticipation and tension over having to make a good impression.  

The truth was that, beyond any and all the absurd notions some part of his mind (and heart, metaphorically speaking) seemed to be entertaining, he cared so deeply for Eggsy that he just wanted Michelle and Daisy to like him, wanted to have the best of relationships with them, if only because he  _knew_ it would make Eggsy happy (and he wanted nothing more than to make Eggsy happy, as helplessly soppy and ridiculous as that sounded). He hadn't wanted someone to like him since... He didn't even know. He couldn't remember. Possibly since his thirteen-year-old self had developed a massive crush over the rugby team captain over at Eton, which was saying something.  

As they had made their way inside, Daisy, in all her tiny, shouting, screaming, overexcited might, was the first to greet them – or rather, her brother. The scene which then unfolded before his eyes was enough to make Harry's heart melt. It was absolutely crystal clear how much Eggsy loved his little sister, and how much she loved him back. Harry understood what wonderful sort of relationship they must have from those few moments alone, and thinking about what Eggsy must’ve done for his little sister, made something fierce squeeze inside of his chest and between his ribcage. In that moment, he made a promise to himself, that as long as his heart would still beat, he would keep them safe with everything he had -- Michelle, Daisy, nothing would befall them -- not on his watch.  

As he silently stood by and watched the exchange between the two, Harry waited until Daisy's curious little eyes ( _almost the same colour as Eggsy,_ he noticed,  _though more towards a green-ish shade of blue... somehow_ ) were fixed on him and Eggsy all but introduced him as  _the nicest, a real gentleman like in the movies._ Taking his cue once introductions were made, Harry offered a warm, soft smile.  

"Miss Daisy, it's a pleasure to meet you" The older man greeted, putting the bags down with one hand before he gently took one of Daisy's tiny hands in his and leaned down to brush a light kiss to it, keeping eye contact the whole time. "I'm Harry, Eggsy's friend." He added as he pulled himself back up. 

\----- 

Daisy  _giggled_. "Nice t'meetchoo, 'Arry," Daisy told him. 

Watching the exchange Eggsy felt his insides turn to mush. He couldn't believe this was the same man that was easily capable of putting down an entire room of equally murderous people. Eggsy pushed the thought of the church away in favor of focusing on the hot air balloon feeling in his chest. Daisy was immediately charmed and showed no signs of distress or concern despite Harry's maturity and height. A killer Harry Hart might be, but he was a frugal one. God, but Eggsy loved him. So fiercely it consumed him, especially with Harry standing so close and Eggsy's precious baby sister between them. 

A softly cleared throat behind him made Eggsy startle. "Mum! You remember Harry Hart yeah?" 

\----- 

Harry felt his chest instantly warm and melt a little at the sheer cuteness of Eggsy's little sister, those big, bright eyes and blond hair paired up with her clearly curious nature speaking of endless mischief, the kind that Harry knew he would learn to love with perhaps far too much ease and speed. He then exchanged a quick look with Eggsy, finding a weird, oddly unreadable expression on his face, almost as if something had caught him unawares and had very nearly swept him off his feet.  

As he heard the soft sound coming from the hallway, Harry straightened up and felt more than a little guilty for having given Daisy all his attention instead of being the well-mannered man he knew himself to be. Michelle was standing by the threshold, a gentle, fond smile written over her features as she looked at her two children. Then, looking up at Harry, she renewed her smile and stepped forward, offering out her hand for Harry to shake.  

"Course I do. Good t’see ya, Mr. Hart," she said, as Harry shook her hand with a smile. 

"And you, very much so. But please, none of that Mr. Hart nonsense. Just Harry is fine." Then, tilting his head towards Daisy and Eggsy, Harry offered a small, apologetic smile. "Apologies, for that. We had to be properly introduced, Miss Daisy and I." The older man added, casting Daisy a complicit look which was clear for all to see, before picking up their gifts and offering Michelle the flowers he'd been holding in his other hand, which she thanked him for, saying she'd have to put them into a proper vase, before she finally turned to his son.  

"You an’ me are gonna ‘ave a talk, lad – goin’ off like fha’! No calls, no nofhin’!" She said, sounding a bit stern even though she was smiling as he leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a sound kiss to his cheek, cupping the other side of his face with her hand. Then pulling back, she gestured to the living room. "How bout I get ya a drink or somefhin'?" 

\----- 

Eggsy winced. Then wrapped his free arm around her hugging her and Daisy both together. "M'so sorry, Mum. I didn't fhink at all an' m'gonna try not t’let it happen again, yeah? As a proper apology, Harry here helped me pick out a nice bottle of champagne for you t’enjoy... sometime." 

That seemed to do the trick and Michelle zeroed in on the bottle in the obvious gift bag with almost glee as Eggsy motioned to Harry to hand it over with his only free hand. Once he had the bottle passed to Michelle, Daisy squirmed on his hip impatiently and Eggsy responded by putting her back on her bare feet without seeming to even realize he'd been cued. Daisy bounced over to Harry as Eggsy started explaining the champagne's better attributes, quoting Harry's description of it from when he'd helped to select it. There was a definite note of pride in his voice as he did. Harry was amazing, and he really wanted his Mum to see that. 

"Mr. ‘Arry?" Big light blue eyes looked up at him, little Daisy having to crane her neck back as far as she could to do so because Harry was the tallest man she'd ever seen in her little mind. "Whot 'appened t'yer glasses? Fhey's not see fhrough fhere." 

"Oi!" Eggsy startled and whipped his attention over. At his side Michelle was covering her mouth, her eyes wide. "Daisy,  _no_. Fhat's rude fhat is! You apologize." 

Daisy didn't look the least bit fazed over her brother's admonishment. "But Eggy! 'e can't see..." 

Eggsy's cheeks were very pink ( _Poor Harry!_  Eggsy felt his stomach clench. He knew Harry had to be self-conscious about the eye thing!  _Bollocks!_ ) and he pulled his lower lip between his teeth a moment. "Mum!" Helplessly he looked over at her. He wasn't a parent and didn't know what to do to press the issue without having Daisy have a blow out. He didn't know if she'd napped that day yet and when the bloody hell did she get so smart!? Eggsy was thoroughly impressed by how much she was talking to be honest. Then again, his mum had always said he had been a mouthy little shit when he was younger too. 

\----- 

Harry had smiled discreetly at the three Unwins as they hugged, unable to keep the fondness from his expression even as he averted his gaze and took a step back, not wanting to intrude on the family moment.  

He had never really given a thought to what had happened, in those months, to Eggsy's family -- the months during which he'd been technically, legally dead. And well, as much as Michelle didn't know about Eggsy's real work, thank goodness, it must still be heavy on her to have her son suddenly disappear, faffing off to parts unknown and then reappearing as if nothing had happened. 

Harry's little musing was interrupted rather suddenly by Daisy's tiny little voice, to which he looked down, having heard her question, and immediately lowered himself to a crouch, wanting Daisy to feel like they were on equal grounds and knowing that height could sometimes look slightly imposing or scary from a child's point of view. Just then, Eggsy chimed in, wanting to stop his sister from asking the rather obvious question, and after the brief exchange between the two of them, Harry shook his head minutely at Eggsy, exchanging a look with him and lifting his hand in a gesture of dismissal, as if to say, _it's fine, don't worry about it_.  

"It's perfectly alright. You were very perceptive, Miss Daisy, very smart to notice. I can't see from here," Harry began, tapping his temple just above the injury, above the darkened lens. "Because there was someone who wanted to hurt two very important people. And I wanted them to be safe, so this person hurt me instead. But that's fine, because those two people are safe after all."  

It was almost ironic, Harry thought, as he considered his own words. In a way, what he'd told Daisy hadn't been a lie. Yes, it could fit Eggsy's cover story perfectly, but in a way, it was also the truth. He'd gone to Kentucky, he'd gotten himself shot, he'd... Well, the church massacre hadn't exactly been planned. Nonetheless -- he'd done what he'd done because he'd understood the risk Valentine was posing, and he wanted to deal with him himself, also because of what he'd done to Lancelot, but mostly because he wanted to keep Eggsy safe. He hadn't seen the big picture, not then, not with what they knew back then. He hadn't known what lay in store for him... But it hadn't mattered. He'd wanted to protect Eggsy, and Merlin, and Kingsman, in that order. And, well, if an eye had been the price to pay (although the demons waiting for him in the dark told another story) then he wouldn't take that sacrifice back for the world. 

\----- 

Daisy moved quick into Harry's space bracing a little hand on his arm and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Fhere! All betteh!" she declared and then grabbed onto Harry's pinky below the signet ring. "Come on Mr. 'Arry! I wanna show you somefhing!" She tugged, eager and urgent. 

Eggsy had a shy, pleased expression on his face. He had honestly been afraid that Daisy wouldn't take to Harry. Adult men, in her experience, were all horrid brutes who hit her mum and brother and yelled and were mean. He felt his heart twist and squeeze enough to steal his breath a moment to see her so taken with his Harry. "Go on, guv. She's not gonna give up til ya go." Did he sound choked up? Maybe it was a minute enough tightness in his throat that it would go unnoticed. Good lord, but Harry looked good with a baby by his side, and -  _Hello_. Where the fuck had that thought come from?! Eggsy had never considered kids before... but then Harry got him thinking about all kinds of things he hadn't ever thought of before. Well, no. That was a lie. A fair few of those domestic and romantic things had been in his daydreams most of his life like finding someone to spend his life with, to love him back just as much as he loved them, and someone who saw their world in his eyes the way he saw his world in theirs. 

It was of no consideration that the two wouldn't be fine for a bit alone together. "I'll help mum finish up dinner in the kitchen -" because he could smell something good in there and he was well aware that with a proper and stocked kitchen Michelle Unwin had fallen back into the habits of a woman once married to a good man. A good cook she wasn't, but she had once been passable enough. Eggsy reasoned without Dean around demanding her attentions and ruining their meager meals all the time his mum was likely a fair to middling cook. Or was it again maybe? "-an’ fhen we can give Daisy her surprises, yeah? Can you keep Prince wif you? C'mon, mum. Let's find a vase." 

\----- 

"Ah, thank you Miss Daisy. That was lovely of you." Harry replied with a wide smile, showing just how much her kiss had 'made everything better'. When she all but tried to drag him away from Eggsy and Michelle, Harry looked up. One brief glance at Eggsy was enough to vanish his momentary worry over suddenly deserting him and Michelle, which wasn't exactly well-mannered of him. However, as Harry heard the younger man's words giving him the all-clear to follow Daisy over to her brightly-coloured play mat. 

As the bright young girl showed him around her toys, Harry wasted no time in expressing his interest and curiosity at everything she seemed most enthusiastic about. Eggsy surely deserved some long overdue time alone with his mother, and Harry was more than happy to have the little Unwin princess boss him around for a little while if that would allow Eggsy that. He was also immensely relieved and elated that the youngest Unwin seemed to have taken to him so easily and quickly, so he was more than alright with the idea of spending some time with her, taking Prince with them to have the puppy under his watchful eye while being the object of Daisy's excitement. 

Meanwhile, Michelle was puttering about the kitchen, fussing over gifts and setting out bowls of food and water for the Prince, before finding a vase to put the flowers into. "Cor, but ain't fhese gorgeous, Eggsy! Too much fussin' fer plain old me, really." She exclaimed before taking out a few bottles of sodas and beers from the fridge, then turned towards Eggsy.  

"D'you reckon Harry prefers wine?" Michelle asked, turning around before leaning against the counter, her mother's eyes narrowing ever so slightly on her son as she watched the emotions play over his face, those eyes she knew far too well and could read like an open book. She also knew her son well enough, and knew that a little coaxing would be more than enough to make him spill the beans, so to speak. 

\----- 

Unaware of her mother's prying Daisy glanced at the kitchen door. "You 'ave a puppy," she pointed out when she brought her attention back to Harry, fiddling with a tiny fake tea service set. "C'n you keep a secret? Cuz Eggy ‘as a puppy too. 'E jus' don't know it yet. A pretty lady comed by an' left a puppy an' a note. She was very pretty. Mum an' me didn't like her much fhough." 

Daisy looked like she felt bad for saying so but when she met Harry's eye she was earnest despite the childish sway and wriggle she was performing apparently unable to sit still. 

In the kitchen Eggsy raised the two bottles of Guinness. "Nah, mum. Harry, loves his Guinness. It's his fault I've grown a taste for it too." Eggsy was grinning completely unaware of the trap he was walking right into. Eggsy set the bottles on the table and started laying out place settings. His mind was more on Harry and how well this all was going, not on safeguarding his secrets against his mum. 

\----- 

Thanking Daisy for the tea with a flourish, Harry accepted the plastic teacup and sipped at the make-believe tea, careful not to slurp as he listened intently to the little girl’s chatter. When she all but told him about them having another puppy (the sheer fact that he was even included almost automatically made his chest give a sorry little squeeze) Harry kept a perfectly composed expression as he listened, trying to figure out what exactly she was talking about and what had actually happened.  

“I can certainly keep a secret” he promised solemnly, adding some invisible sugar to his invisible tea, before stirring. ‘A pretty lady’ — could it mean  _Tilde_?  _Tilde had dropped by and had left a puppy and a note...?_  Harry didn’t know much about what had happened between Eggsy and Tilde and he hadn’t asked Merlin either. They’d had other matters to attend to, but honestly, it always felt weird and rather bittersweet to even think about prying into that bit of Eggsy’s life. It had been something that Eggsy had built while Harry had been ‘dead’, which only served to make it all worse, more painful.  

“Does the puppy have a name, then? Did you give it one?” Harry asked, as he played along. 

Meanwhile, as Eggsy set the table, Michelle got a few more things prepped for dinner – the casserole she had made still had a few more minutes in the oven, along with a rich salad and some steamed vegetables -- and then went back to her place against the counter, watching her son move about the place, getting things ready, and although he had always been mature and responsible beyond his years (something which Michelle was endlessly grateful for, while blaming herself for it, as if she'd somehow deprived him of his childhood because of it), she realized with a start that he looked so grown up, all of a sudden. Like he'd found his place in life, like everything was working out for him once more.  

"Course 'e does. Not sure 'ow fhat's a fault, fhough. Reckon fhere's worse fhings'n givin' ya a taste for Guinness." Michelle pointed out casually. "Hangin' out a fair bit wiv' Harry fhen?" 

\----- 

Mr. Harry was as good as Eggsy at playing tea party! She was delighted and offered him a plate of imaginary biscuits. "No, I didn' cuz Mum says Eggy ‘as t'name 'im." Her sigh was a little dramatic, a three year old trying to be more adult that she was. "Mum says it's Eggy's puppy because 'e's the oldest. So's 'e's allowed a puppy." Daisy scooted over and snuggled up next to Harry without any preamble. She yawned and sighed, blinking sleepily. This entire time, Sir Prince had been sprawled casually on his side, sleeping on Harry's other side. 

In the kitchen Eggsy sipped his bottle of Guinness, entirely unaware of Michelle's motherly machinations. 

"Yeah, mum. Harry needs me right now." And he needed Harry. He needed to be able to look over and have Harry just there. "Been fhrough a lot, he has. I don't mind bein' 'is valet again for a bit." 

Eggsy hoped his mum would understand that that also meant he'd be staying with Harry rather than coming home now that they were back from wherever Eggsy had - in the fib - gone to pick Harry up from. He was glad he hadn't gotten detailed. He'd only told her over the phone from his Statesman suite in the US that he'd had to leave the country to fetch his injured boss. It was really great how everything seemed to fall into place. He must be getting good at this Kingsman business, he thought lightheartedly. 

\----- 

Harry thanked Daisy and took an imaginary biscuit, pretending to bite one before humming in delight. "These are absolutely delicious, Miss Daisy. You simply  _must_ teach me the recipe. I'm sure Eggsy would love them if I made them at home for him, wouldn't you agree?" Harry cooed, pretending to eat his entire biscuit before drinking more of his tea and then pouring some for the youngest Unwin. 

"I see. Well, I'm sure you can help him choose the name. Something tells me you're very good at choosing names." The superspy said with conviction, before watching with momentary confusion as Daisy all but scooted over towards him. Pretending as if nothing had happened, Harry simply moved a little so his own body and arm was holding Daisy, supporting her as her tiny body leaned against his. 

As Eggsy finished setting the table in the kitchen, Michelle's eyebrow shot up with surprise. Clearly Eggsy's interest and affection towards this man was even greater than what she'd thought. From what little Eggsy had told her in the past year, Harry had come to be an important part of his life, but it wasn't until that very moment, having that very conversation, that Michelle realized just how much Harry meant to Eggsy. She could see it quite clearly, in the way he spoke about Harry, in his words, his posture, everything. But no matter how much she wanted her own son to be as happy as possible in this life, she knew she had to stay in her place and only offer support when Eggsy would need it. Still, it wouldn't hurt to push just a little bit more.  

"Bein' 'is valet?" Michelle repeated, her expression softening as she stepped closer to her son and smiled at him, cupping his cheek. "Eggsy, luv. 'f 'Arry's half the man ya sayin' 'e is, then I reckon 'e needs ya 's much as ya need 'im." Then, pulling away to get the casserole out of the oven and onto the stove to cool, Michelle then continued. "But that's no ma'er, ya do anythin' ya feel you gotta do, a'ight luv? 'S long as you're 'appy" 

\----- 

Eggsy blinked wide-eyed at Michelle for a long breath. "Mum...? Fhanks. I.... I need Harry an' you t'get along. It means a lot t'me." Eggsy gave her a brief side hug then called out, "Oi, Harry! Dinner's up. Come on in!" 

He grinned at his mum. How domestic was this? Harry Hart was having dinner with Eggsy's family! He could almost pretend that he and Harry were dating and this meeting with Eggsy's mum was going well. _If only._  

“Fhey's not real, ‘Arry!” Daisy giggled in the other room, but it was a sleepy giggle and she yawned in the middle of it. Her eyelids drooped and Daisy almost instantly fell asleep in that way of children overexcited and up too late. She didn't even stir when Eggsy called out. 

\----- 

Michelle all but smiled at Eggsy and gave his cheek a little pat before getting the cooling casserole from the stove and setting it on the table as she waited for Harry to come into the kitchen and for the two of them to sit down at the dinner table. Whatever further conversation she had to have with Eggsy, it could wait. 

Meanwhile, Harry had all but found himself with an armful of sleeping, lightly snoring Daisy. He was more than a little afraid of moving at first, not wanting to wake her up, but once he waited a little while and had ascertained that there was no way she would be doing so anytime soon, Harry gently, slowly scooped her up into his arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder, while one of her little hands went to lightly curl around the fabric of his shirt.  

Just then, he heard Eggsy's voice, calling him from the kitchen to tell him that dinner was ready. Getting up was a tricky thing, but lithe grace had always been his forte, so he managed, and walked towards the kitchen, still gently holding Daisy to his broad chest. Once he reached the threshold, he remained just shy of the stronger light that was illuminating the kitchen. "My sincere apologies for having... disappeared with Miss Daisy." He said, slightly embarrassed. "She seems to have fallen asleep." 

\----- 

Michelle and Eggsy both looked up, but after a quick glimpse of Harry holding Daisy her eyes turned to Eggsy. The young man had frozen his eyes almost bewildered. He was stunned by the way seeing Harry like that made his stomach swoop and his heart just go mush. And then there was that twist of longing. The feeling that he needed Harry, had to have these moments with Harry in his life forever or he'd just... die. Not to be melodramatic or anything, he thought in exasperation at himself. 

"Oh my, Dais," he sighed with affection and came to stand in front of Harry, looking up with an almost dazed smile on his face. "Come on. You'll 'ave t'lay 'er down. She might wake up if I try'n'take'er," he murmured and put an almost grateful hand under Harry's elbow. 

Gently he guided Harry through to the stairs and up to the bedrooms, his hand steadying on Harry's left elbow. Quietly he pushed the door open and urged Harry in. He moved passed Harry and turned down Daisy's bedcovers. "Get'er head on the pillow an' we're good, guv." Whispering he added, "Lay'er out like we're trying to lay charges without alertin'the guards, yeah?" Eggsy's lips were twisted in a smirk that said he was trying hard not to laugh. 

\----- 

Harry held Eggsy's gaze, feeling something run between them, something quiet and heavy and meaningful. Whatever it was, it was etched in Eggsy's features, written in the deep jade eyes, rippling with so many emotions and unspoken affection that it hurt. It made Harry's heart squeeze and ache, it made his stomach twist with how much he wanted Eggsy, how much he wanted to have this with him, this domesticity, this easy intimacy, these quiet moments of caring and closeness... 

But he couldn't. He  _couldn't_ \-- he didn't even know the first thing about Eggsy's sexual inclinations (he liked women, at the very least, that much he was certain of), but even if Eggsy did swing both ways, it just  _couldn't_ happen. Because Harry was much too old (old enough to be his dad, and then some), much too broken, and he was not relationship material. He'd never had anything stable in his life except for his own butterfly collection and his own fucking dog, thank you very much, and the only lengthy relationship with another person he'd ever had was Merlin's (and even then, of a very different nature), whose life was so very much like his own. With Merlin, it had simply been far too easy, never having to explain anything.  

But  _Eggsy_... Eggsy was too precious for this world, and Harry would be damned if he let himself taint something so perfect and pure with his own blood-soaked hands and his broken, jagged self. 

 "Of course." Harry agreed with the soft rumble of his voice, before following Eggsy to Daisy's room and doing as instructed. With gentle, yet strong arms, he lowered Daisy on her bed with slow, gradual movements, until she was safely curled up on her side as Harry tucked her covers in and dared to brush a hand to her soft, wispy hair. Then, turning towards Eggsy, his eye twinkling with amusement at the younger man's humor, Harry softly shook his head, and nodded towards the door. "Come on, let's head back to your mother. It won't do to keep her waiting much longer, she's been patient enough." 

\----- 

Eggsy chuckled but led the way out of Daisy's room once he was sure she was tucked in. Closing the door, Eggsy said, "Mum's glad o'the break you just gave her t'finish cookin'. Trust me, Harry." 

Beaming, his heart still full to overflowing with joy and good feelings and love for he man trailing him, Eggsy trotted jovially down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Smells amazin', Mum! Daisy's all tucked in." 

Eggsy caught the back of the chair meant for Harry and pulled it out then - with a slightly silly flourish - he motioned for Harry to take the seat. He was in high spirits, feeling like things really were going in the right direction for him now. Maybe he could make this thing with Harry work. Why not? Harry was into blokes. Eggsy was young and fit and they got on like a house on fire! Eggsy loved Harry's weirdness and his off humor and just everything about the man. Maybe he could give it a go, but... Eggsy's enthusiasm crested then dimmed just a little. What if making the overture ruined what he already had with Harry? He sighed. Back to that worry then. Well, it wouldn't ruin right now! Once Harry sat, Eggsy would politely push him in a bit, do the same for his mom who was currently at the counter making up three small salads once she'd come back to the table, and then Eggsy was going to enjoy every fucking minute of this. He had Harry back and until he figured out his own issues he was just plain going to revel in that. 

\----- 

Nodding at Eggsy's words, Harry followed the younger man back into the kitchen. "Alright, if you're certain" He murmured in response, not wanting to have a repeat of that morning.  

He still felt like he wasn't completely sure what had just happened, what with Daisy all but falling asleep in his arms after barely knowing him for... what, half an hour? And yet, he'd all but tucked her in bed and had given her a soft caress. He knew he could be very good with kids, but somehow, he just knew he had a soft spot for Daisy already. Of course, being Eggsy's sister had more than a little to do with it, but it did not explain everything.  

"Apologies again for having been absent so long." Harry said once more as they stepped into the kitchen, but his apology was waved away by Michelle's dismissive gesture, as she urged them to sit down. She set the last few things on the table then sat down herself, followed by Eggsy and, at last, Harry. "Go on fhen, gents. What y’waitin' for?" Michelle invited them to start with a smile, gesturing at the food on the table, clearly feeling pleased with herself. 

\----- 

"You 'eard'er." Eggsy was already shoveling food onto his plate, eager and enthusiastic. Sir Prince had been tied to the leg of the table which meant Michelle had done so. Eggsy was very glad his mum was such an understanding woman. 

"So," Michelle stated her voice attempting to hit a casually inquisitive tone. Eggsy glanced up suspiciously, fork containing speared noodles dripping cheese and sauce halting a split second before moving much more slowly on the way to Eggsy's mouth. "'Ave y'heard from Tilde lately, Eggsy?" 

Eggsy flinched. It was the slightest little jolt and it made him feel foolish because he really didn't care that Tilde had left him. Not with Harry back! Tilde had thanked him for his services to crown, country and the world and told him to bugger off. She refused to be with a man who's very job required him to flirt and have sex with other women. She wasn't hearing any part of how he'd not gone through with it. At least no further than he'd had to. Eggsy swallowed his mouthful and it went down like a lump of woodchips. "Nah mum," he replied after taking a sip of Guinness. "Tilde weren't right for me. I couldn't be a crown prince! What a load of bullshit! I'd'a made a git outta myself tryin' t'win her back, not fhat I even wanted to. She weren't gonna listen t'me anyway." 

Michelle hummed and glanced at Harry. "So 'Arry. I've never seen Eggsy so dedicated before. 'E's not too much trouble yeah?" 

"Mum!" Eggsy barked in startled protest his cheeks flushing. "M'not a kid!" 

\----- 

Waiting until Eggsy and Michelle had filled their plates with food, Harry then followed their example and served himself a little bit of everything. The casserole was indeed a delicious dish, and Harry didn't fail to compliment Michelle about it.  

It was almost inevitable, really, that she would launch headfirst into the whole "Tilde" matter, so Harry politely listened, not daring to ask any kind of further question about what had really happened, behind the scenes so to speak. He didn't want to intrude, did not wish to be rude, but most of all, he knew that Eggsy would tell him if and when he felt like it. Harry had a pretty good idea of what precisely had happened between the two of them, but it felt like the whole festival matter had been more of a pretext -- it was a feeling Harry couldn't shake. Why, however, Eggsy was so adamant about not even trying to win her back, was a mystery to Harry. Surely it couldn't just be the issue of Tilde being royalty, and "making a git out of himself" if he should try to win her back was rather unconvincing as far as reasons went. There was something clearly going on, but Harry didn't dare ask.  

When Michelle asked him a question, Harry looked up at her, swallowing his bite and dabbing at his mouth before replying. "Not at all. In this past year, Eggsy has truly found his path, in his own way and under his own terms. I had very little to do with that -- I merely gave him the initial push that he needed, in the right direction, but his achievements, the praise he has received, it's nothing but his own merit." The older spy replied sincerely, not bothering to hide or mask anything in his tone. It was the truth. He was immensely proud of Eggsy -- even more than he'd been back before Kentucky, during his training and the tests. Now... Eggsy was his own man, his own person, he'd done so much and achieved so much, and he had no one to thank but himself.  

"Eggsy is a terrific asset and a truly dedicated worker. We rely on him more than he could even begin to realize." Harry added, quite honestly. 

\----- 

Eggsy was clearly relieved when Michelle let the issue of Tilde drop. He didn't want to think about it, talking about it or deal with it ever again. It was done. She had found him wanting. Truthfully... even if she hadn't broken up with him, he would have broken up with her. He had been mad for Harry since the Black Prince, already a bit smitten over beers before Harry had gone and so thoroughly trounced all over Dean's thugs. He'd ached to have a wank after that display of brutal dominance but between Dean taking exception and jumping Eggsy the moment he came through the door and then Harry's big reveal and Eggsy falling in with the Lancelot recruits, Eggsy hadn't had the minute. He'd found time later, of course, though not as much time as he'd have liked. And he had better stop thinking about wanking over Harry Hart! 

"Oi, easy fhere, Guvneh. You're makin' me blush. I don' do nuffin' whot don' need doin'. M'jus’ reahlly glad t'be doin' somefhing wifh my life, yeah?" 

Harry had no idea what his words were doing to Eggsy. Every little word of praise was only adding fuel to Eggsy's already uncomfortable predicament. He always got a little stiff when he remembered that afternoon at the Black Prince, but now here sat Harry, his beautifully cultured, steady voice laying praises on Eggsy like sun-heated honey. Fuck, but he was feeling it straight to his core! Warm and sweet. This was it's own kind of torture, Eggsy reasoned. Never in his life had anyone given Eggsy the intense, almost loving encouragement Harry Hart had showered on him from the moment he'd refused, despite the knife to his throat, to give up Harry's name to his crazed stepfather. It did weird things to Eggsy's insides, cranking up his arousal immensely and making him feel a bit lightheaded and now here he sat with a full blown erection (mostly his own fault, but even so...) while he had dinner at his mum's with the man he was hard for. He maybe should have shot one off in the shower last night after all. 

"So mum! Have you enrolled Dais in school yet? She's about old enough innit she?" 

Now all he had to do was not squirm and wait for the change in topic to curb his libido. Idly Eggsy wondered if Harry had this same problem still at his age, popping inappropriate stiffies out of the blue. 

\----- 

As much as Eggsy seemed to be relieved not to have to talk about Tilde any longer, Harry still noticed that the topic Michelle had addressed moments later did not seem to work all that well either. Eggsy's cheeks were now tinged with a lovely shade of crimson, something that Harry had noticed quite often whenever he'd make a praising comment in passing, though he didn't think he'd ever quite seen his blush...  _that_ evident and dark. Harry’s growing suspicion was only confirmed by Eggsy's following words – for Harry was indeed beginning to suspect Eggsy’s passing embarrassment was due to a particular soft spot of his, where praise was concerned.  

"I happen to disagree with that, Eggsy. Your interpretation of matters clearly belittles your merits. But I’ll respect your wishes, and say no more about it." Harry replied easily, not wanting to cause any trouble between the three of them, not when their dinner together felt like such a pivotal moment.  

Meanwhile, Michelle was looking between the two of them, not saying anything. She could read her son like an open book, so it came as no true surprise when he reacted so heavily to Harry's praise -- Harry's words, however, piqued her interest much more. Harry was clearly being open and honest, unlike the idea of him that Michelle had had, all those years prior; he seemed quite perfectly composed as she remembered him, but there seemed to be almost a softness to him, almost a chink in his metaphorical armor, like something had breached through and, although everything else was quite the same, that particular fracture seemed to run deeper that expected. Still, she didn't want to read too much into the man's words. He clearly cared a great deal about Eggsy and, as a mother, that was all she cared about.  

"Yeah, she's gonna be startin' in Septembeh. Excitin', innit? She'll wan’ 'er big brofher round when fhat 'appens, yeah? If you fhink you’n manage." She replied casually, smiling as if nothing had happened. 

\----- 

"Course I'll be fhere mum! Swear down! Anofher World War couldn' keep me away!" Eggsy declared emphatically. The rest of the meal was spent talking about Daisy and how quickly she was turning into a little person rather than a needy creature as all babies were. Michelle had some great stories most involving things Daisy said that were completely uncouth or innocent but rude and mostly to complete strangers. When the meal was over Eggsy and Harry had done the dishes while Michelle put the leftovers into containers (some for them and some for herself and Daisy). They’d said their farewells and Eggsy had snuck in to kiss Daisy on her pudgy little cheek without waking her, then Eggsy, Harry, Sir Prince and the newest addition to their little family, the pug puppy, took their leave. As soon as they got back to the townhouse, Eggsy was going to park himself and his dog on Merlin's couch. And get in some bonding time with the puppy. Eggsy couldn't keep the lopsided grin off his face. Not when life was going so bloody good! He had  _Harry_  back! His mum was settled so well into the new life  _he_  was providing for her and Daisy, just like he'd always wanted. He had a new puppy! And now… he was  _alone_  with Harry.  _Harry Hart_ , who liked  _blokes_. 

Yeah, life was bloody fucking good indeed. 

 


	3. Tame the ghosts in my head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter was inspired by: [ "Lover's Eyes" by Mumford & Sons](https://open.spotify.com/track/7rMDB1bKHO0Sh8oTWWvdsJ?si=lg7QGHdFTZaA37Ip8w-j9Q)

“I can' believe she gave'im back.” Eggsy sounded a bit dazed even to his own ears.  

Arriving home after such a busy, event packed day was such a relief, Eggsy mused as he lounged on Merlin's couch. They'd done a bunch of errands, picking up some essential clothing items and the like, before his mum's dinner, then done all their grocery shopping and picked up necessities for the dogs after that. The soft, loose-skinned bundle of sleeping Pug puppy tucked into the space between his hip and the arm of the couch, cuddling snugly with him right then, was a happy little dream come true, making for a perfect ending to a perfect day. The loss of JB had been indescribably painful, which Tilde had well known, and then to hold this perfect little puppy in his arms only to have Tilde keep him instead when they'd (mostly mutually) broken off their relationship had been almost as painful. He was glad she'd proven not to be too awful after Eggsy had confessed to not wanting to be a Prince Consort for many reason but primarily because he didn't want to quit his work as a spy and, even more importantly, because he was still so madly in love with Harry, which she had known from their many conversations throughout their time together, and accepted (or so he'd thought). 

He was glad to be home. He was gladder still that the dinner with his mum had gone so very well. His mum had been pleased with Harry from the moment they'd stepped through the door and Eggsy couldn't be happier or more content in that moment. Well. He could because he could be cuddling with Higgins and  _Harry_  and Prince who was laid out on the cushions between them snoozing, but he wasn't that fortunate yet. If ever. His hopes were high yet though. Very high after his discovery from early on in the day that Harry, by his own admission, preferred men.  

"Higgins," Eggsy declared softly, wondering if Harry would catch the reference to the male lead in My Fair Lady though he didn't expect much of a response since Harry seemed as knackered as Eggsy felt himself. "M'callin'im Higgins."   

Even as he spoke Eggsy lifted his hips off the couch, mindful of the sleeping Pug, and pulled the small card sized envelope out of his back pocket. He settled into his slump again, Higgins still tucked into his side and not even remotely disturbed, and flipped it over and over a few times. Tilde's perfume wafted from it softly, but the scent did nothing for him. Not now that he had Harry Hart and his aftershave and cologne tickling and teasing his sense of smell every now and then. Living in close proximity and all that. Not that Eggsy was complaining. With a sigh he resigned himself to opening it and, with a finger, tore the top of the envelope open. Two ivory folds of cardstock came out with a firm tug. Eggsy flipped the first open, “page one” and read it.  

"You believe fhis?” he groused after reading it through. His expression was all pinched and squinted eyes and stubborn mouth, the younger man's expression adopting that look of rebellion he had often flashed when first running the Kingsman trials. “Tilde says she'll take me back if I agree t'quit Kingsman an’ marry her." Eggsy snorted not caring how ungentlemanly it sounded. "Nah. Fuck fhat, bruv. She's  _mental_ , she is. Ain't no way I'm  _leahvin'_  Kingsman. Or  _you_. Who does she fhink she is?"  

\-----  

Being curled up in a familiar place, on a familiar sofa or armchair, sipping a good whisky (and he could even hear Merlin's voice in his head, preaching endlessly about the proper whisky,  _without an e thank you very much_ ,  _which was nothing like that swill-with-an-e that the Americans liked to drown their faces in without any care for taste or proper quality_ ), with the bonus of quietly enjoying a beloved person's presence, was something that Harry didn't know he'd missed this much. It seemed to be exactly what his body needed, and hopefully,  _hopefully_ , it would be enough to help his mind shut up for long enough to allow his body to succumb to exhaustion and fall asleep.   

As Eggsy spoke, Harry realized he'd been thinking about their evening together with Michelle, musing on the surprisingly easy exchanges between them, after the first few false starts. Eggsy had seemed beyond relieved at being back with his mother and sister, seeing them after so long, except his mood had been rather dampened by the little four-legged gift that Michelle had given them later on. Harry had pretended not to know anything about it, discreetly stepping back until Eggsy seemed ready to open up a little about the whole matter, at which point he'd stepped back in and was more than happy to give the little puppy all the attention and the affection it deserved.   

As Harry listened to Eggsy, quietly reading his expressions as he was so blessedly open and genuine as he always was, the older man felt his heart give a mighty squeeze; he did not want Eggsy to have to suffer any longer, especially not for something like this. Not that it had anything to do with how he felt towards Tilde for having had with Eggsy what he could never have... And then all but throwing it all away for some insignificant reason.  

"You've never wondered, I suppose, whether I could get along without you." Harry quoted quietly with a barely-there smile on his lips, looking at Eggsy from his spot on the armchair, crossing one long leg over the other as he did so. He wanted to tell Eggsy about how, back at Statesmen HQ, he remembered wanting to watch _My Fair Lady_ over and over, requesting the movie whenever he was let into certain guarded facilities, almost some sort of a rec room. He would watch the movie time and time again, not even quite knowing why he would do so, to the point where he knew most of it by heart. And, of course, it all made a ridiculous amount of sense now -- and, to an extent, it was also rather ridiculous, in and of itself. It felt like something out of a high school crush, or worse.   

"It's most appropriate, Eggsy." Harry added, nodding his approval, before watching as the younger agent opened up the envelope and read him its contents. Harry felt that squeeze inside of his chest once more, though it had somehow intensified, making him quietly seethe in frustration over the blind, obtuse woman that Eggsy seemed so upset about -- though he showed no exterior reaction.   

"Would you consider it, if she were to ask you the same, only without requesting that you leave Kingsman?" Harry asked, carefully weighing his words, wondering if Eggsy would tell him more about it (while trying very, very hard not to smile at Eggsy's words when he said he wouldn't be leaving him).   

\-----  

" _Fuck_  no," Eggsy stated firm and immediate, but there was a smile on his lips because he recognized the quote from _My Fair Lady_ easy as breathing. "I ‘ad nofhing before Kingsman. Before you. I wouldn't trade fhis for the whole world. Whot kind of relationship was I fhinking I'd 'ave wif a Princess anyway? I mean yeah she's well fit, but..." Eggsy paused pursing his lips in frustration over not knowing exactly how to say what he wanted to say. He wanted to come right out and say he'd been mad for Harry from day one, but was it too much too soon? Did he dare?  

"Fhere was a lot of shit going on," he started slow and careful. "I'd just saved the world, but I'd just lost you too. And fhere was fhat rush you get after a fight? She offered t' let me bum her! A Princess! I'd've been daft t' turn fhat down!" Eggsy sat forward, more on the edge of the couch cushion, and wrung his hands together a bit. Higgins just adjusted himself and happily sank in behind Eggsy. "But really I weren't in no place t' start a relationship like fhat. She ain't the one for me. Shoulda left it a one off. Fhere is  _no_  way I'm goin' back to 'er an’ bein' miserable jus’ because everyone else fhinks I should. You get me?"  

Harry had to understand. Harry always understood once they'd talked about it. Eggsy felt that maybe this was a good starting point. For them. If he could get rid of Tilde's shadow, make everyone see that he was fine (because he had Harry) then maybe he'd find the courage to make Harry see that too. "'Sides. Only wankers give up a sweet gig lihke fhis, yeah?"  

\-----  

 _She ain't the one for me --_ Harry's mind replayed that little tidbit of a sentence over and over in his mind, like one of those weird wooden puzzles that he just couldn't crack no matter how many times he turned it around and around, trying to figure it out.   

Did it mean that there   _was_ someone for him? That he'd   _actually_ found  _the one_? But no, Harry was clearly just reading too much into it. Eggsy was simply stating that it hadn't worked between them. Tilde had clearly asked too much of him -- marrying her, leaving Kingsman, leaving everything Eggsy had conquered, fought for, everything he'd   _built_ over the last year. She was asking him to leave all of that, to marry her and become a prince. Eggsy was clearly not on board with that idea, and no matter how much Harry could easily see Eggsy doing brilliantly at pretty much anything, including being a prince, it still felt bloody selfish of Tilde to even ask such a thing of him. Harry could never, ever ask his loved one to give up what he was, who he was, what he'd built,  _for him_.  

“Of course, yes. I understand, Eggsy." Harry replied quietly, nodding as he looked down pensively at his whisky before downing the rest of it.   

He wanted to selfishly tell Eggsy how happy and relieved he was that Eggsy wasn't being whisked off by a princess, that he wasn't abandoning Kingsman (abandoning   _him_ ). He didn't know what he would've done, otherwise. In the best case scenario, simply wallow in grief and emptiness and guilt ( _so much guilt_ ), unable to rebuild anything, unable to rebuild Kingsman. Unable to rebuild   _himself._ But no, he couldn't tell any of that to Eggsy. He needed to support Eggsy no matter what his choices were, or at the most, disagree with him in a constructive and open way,   _talking_ about it. But Harry most certainly didn't disagree with him in this particular circumstance, so...   

"People always think they know what's best for you, Eggsy. And somehow they manage to make themselves sound superior even though their own lives are probably worse off than yours." Harry replied, sounding calm and composed even though it was clear to whoever knew him that he spoke from personal and direct experience. It wasn't hard to remember his own experiences -- his own father, making him give up on his dream, enlisting him, praising his brilliant military career while he was still alive, in that cold, unemotional, distant way of his. It was all emptiness and meaningless achievements. Merlin had been his only anchor during those years, before they'd both been sucked into the Kingsman world, when Harry's parents had been gone for a few years.   

"Do what's best by you, Eggsy. It's what you've always done, and accept no less."   

 _She doesn't deserve you, anyway. Not that I do, either. But at least I won't stand in the way of your happiness._    

\-----  

"Yeah," Eggsy replied firmly and slowly eased back into the embrace of the couch again after pulling Higgins out and onto his lap instead of leaving him sunk and squished between Eggsy and the couch. He sighed and drummed one set of fingers on the top of his thigh his other hand rubbing the puppy's loose-skinned back. The card stock and envelope had hit the floor the moment he'd sat forward all but forgotten. "Knew you'd understand, Harry."  

Eggsy flashed him a big easy grin, but a loud chime sounded from the vicinity of Harry's phone stopping all thought and discussion. That was surely Statesman. Eggsy jolted back to the edge of the couch cushion again. Higgins having had enough of his owner's restlessness hopped to the floor and Prince went with him the puppies curling up in the bed together with twin sighs. Clear jade eyes worriedly studied Harry, giving the puppies only a glance before fixating on his mentor and taking in his every move and micro-expression. "Who's it? S'it about Mehrlin?"   

\-----  

Just as Harry was about to reply, perhaps with another quote from   _My Fair Lady,_ if only to make Eggsy smile and perhaps lighten his mood and ease some of that tension he could so clearly see etched into his features and his shoulders, his phone went off with a brief, loud beeping sound. He still hadn't completely gotten used to it, and well, the only person who would be texting him apart from Eggsy was someone from Statesmen. No one else even knew he was even   _alive,_ for heaven's sake.  

"Excuse me" Harry said, as polite as ever, as he took out his phone and swiped over the notification. Stomach tightening with nervousness and anticipation at the idea that they might be getting some updates on Merlin's status, Harry kept his face carefully blank as he opened the text message.   

"It is." He croaked after a moment, realizing his throat felt a bit constricted, emotion altering his voice just barely – but enough to be heard and recognized for what it was. Harry cleared his throat, reread the message once more, because he couldn't quite believe it, feeling the pressure of tears behind his good eye and a faint pulsing, burning sensation behind his non-existent, scarred one. Then, looking up at Eggsy, Harry met his gaze with as much calm as he could muster.   

"They're sending Merlin home, in two days. He's stable enough to fly. We'll be scheduling a Skype call or something, tomorrow. He's still going to be in the hospital, but..."   

They were going to arrange everything, have Merlin transferred to a Kingsman and Statesman-friendly hospital or facility, some place where they had their connections and no one would be asking unwanted questions, seeing as they didn't have their tiny but highly efficient hospital at HQ anymore. More than feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, Harry suddenly felt like he was on the verge of crumbling, like the relief was breaking all the pillars and walls he'd carefully built around the angst and the hurt and the worry concerning his best friend, and the dam was threatening to collapse. But he couldn't allow that, he   _wouldn't_  allow himself that, so he simply took a deep, slow breath and rubbed his fingers over his good eye, trying to chase away the feeling.   

\-----  

Eggsy whooped and hopped to his feet suddenly filled with nervous energy and excitement. "'Bout damn time we caught a break! Fuck, Harry!"  

The puppies jumped to their feet with twin barks of startled sleepy surprise, and Eggsy immediately dropped to his knees scooping them both up, cooing to them about how their Uncle Merlin was coming home and how wonderful that was. The puppies licked his face like crazy as he got to his feet and swayed gracefully over to Harry so he could gently deposit the Cairn Terrier on Harry's lap, happily sharing the love. Harry looked like he could use the comfort and distraction. Honestly, Eggsy wanted to be the one crawling into Harry's lap for soft kisses and cuddles. He'd always been a secret sop preferring romance to fucking... not that he didn't enjoy a good fuck but being in love.... and boy was he in love with Harry Hart.... being in love had always been Eggsy's personal end game.  

"Fhat's fucking brilliant fhat is, ain't it, Harry? It'll be good t'see 'im again yeah?" Eggsy buried his face in the fatty ruff of the back of Higgins' neck. "Looks lihke we'll ‘ave t'find new accommodations fhough."  

He felt a little less joy over that, the prospect of not being so close to Harry anymore in no way appealing.  

\-----  

Harry couldn't help a smile from forming onto his face, a smile which had nothing to do with what he'd just read and everything to do with the excited, dancing young man in front of him, jumping around and cuddling two puppies to his chest with a huge grin on his face, excitement filling his every word as he spoke and celebrated.   

Something fragile and barely tethered to his chest felt like it was going to break with the news, but Harry pushed the thought and the feeling away, wanting, no,   _needing_ to celebrate this moment with Eggsy, or rather,  _for_ Eggsy. They both needed a break, as he'd said -- they both needed a win.   _Something._ Something to hold onto as they rebuilt everything, brick by brick.   

Harry welcomed the puppy in his lap like a natural thing, letting it curl against his dove grey suit without a care and immediately started petting him softly, tenderly. It made his heart squeeze a little, to have such a tiny, perfect thing, a reminder of things past... But also of things present. And for that, he could never thank Eggsy enough. He owed him so much.   

"It is rather brilliant, yes." Harry agreed, suddenly feeling exhausted. Meeting Eggsy's gaze, the older man offered a small, relieved smile. "And yes, we will have to. There are a few options, but I'd like to hear your preferences first -- if you'd like to go back to living with your mother and sister, that would be perfectly acceptable, of course. At least while we sort things out. Unless you would like to talk about it in the morning? I understand we are both rather tired."   

\-----  

Eggsy sobered up the rest of the way, kissing shamelessly at Higgins' soft little ears a few times before just looking down at the puppy with almost no emotion on his face a sure sign he hated admitting, "Ain't got much choice do I? I can't get a flat right now. Ain't got time t'be buyin' furniture when I need t'be helpin' you an' Merlin."  

He wondered what other choices Harry had that he sounded so steady about it. Fuck, who was Eggsy kidding!? Harry Hart rarely seemed anything but steady.  Although, Eggsy depositing Sir Prince in Harry's lap had been an immediate response to Eggsy's perception that Harry had needed a steadying moment after the heady relief of hearing Merlin was finally coming home. Eggsy couldn't say he blamed him. Everything had been so touch'n'go. Honestly, Eggsy had wanted hold him, let him lose it a bit but with dignity while Eggsy kissed his face and rubbed his back and murmured his name soothingly. He still wanted to but knew it wasn't something he  _could_  do no matter how much he wanted to do it. 

Eggsy could feel fatigue licking at his eyelids, making them heavy. He was still exhausted and he couldn't wait to snuggle up with Higgins and sleep. The only better choice... well, Eggsy could hardly pretend he wouldn't have preferred sleeping next to Harry.  

\-----  

Harry smiled, a small, soft, slightly melancholy thing on his lips as he looked down at the puppy rapidly falling asleep under the repetitive, gentle ministrations of his own large hands.   

"As I believe I once told you, Eggsy -- there's always a choice. Or, well, something along those lines." Harry calmly stated, looking back up to meet Eggsy's stare. He didn't want Eggsy to think that he had a personal preference in all this matter, but Eggsy was clearly unhappy about the prospect of going back to living with his mother and sister, and Harry could understand that. Perhaps the idea he'd just had would be an acceptable solution for the younger agent, and Harry most decisively ignored any possible selfish implications. He was   _not_ doing this for himself. He was doing this for Eggsy. Whatever the turmoil inside of his chest and mind was trying to tell him, he had to keep his distance. He had to keep everything at bay, and do what was best for Eggsy, nothing more and nothing less.   

"I have my family’s townhouse. I haven't lived there since I was but a child, although I still own it, being an only child. I never saw any reason to live there, having always had my own home." The truth was, Harry hadn't thought about going there and not to Merlin's place because to him, the latter felt like much more of a home, of a familiar place, than his parents'. But Eggsy didn't need to know that. Besides, they would only need to stay there temporarily. It had never felt like his home as a child, and he figured it hardly ever would, even as an adult.   

"I could move over there for some time while we settle things, and of course you're welcome to stay while you look for your own place, for as long as you need." The older Kingsman agent offered, paying attention not to let any childlike hope or anticipation seep into his voice or his words, because he just couldn't allow himself to show just how much he enjoyed being in Eggsy's company, perhaps even enjoying such quiet moments of domesticity.   

\-----  

Eggsy's eyes closed as he nuzzled into Higgins' scruff. Harry's eye looked haunted through the clear lens. Eggsy couldn't say what specific thing it was about Harry that lent to the idea that he wasn't as whole and put together as the front he put forward would have the world around him believing. Probably the same instincts that had urged Eggsy to deposit the calming presence of Sir Prince into Harry's lap. Eggsy was.... well, he was worried about Harry. The man had been through so fucking much (Eggsy knew he had only seen some of the most recent trauma too so he probably had more justification to be worried about Harry than he even actually knew about) and Eggsy... honestly the thought of being away from him - as fucking pathetic as his mates would say that was - made Eggsy's heart squeeze with fear.  

"You ain't tired of me yet?"  

Jade glass eyes lifted to meet Harry's single warm whiskey eye over the top of Higgins' head, his words a little muffled by loose skin and fur. The puppy tossed his head and tried to lick any portion of skin he could reach. Eggsy worried his bottom lip a bit with his teeth as the puppy managed to lap at his nose, feeling foolish and inexcusably insecure. He was a fucking Kingsman! A spy-assassin of the highest caliber, but if he was burdening Harry, overstaying his welcome... he didn't want to drive Harry to... he didn't know   _not liking him_   any more, or even   _despising_ him or something! Hardly any of the men his mom had dated had liked him... Harry wasn't like those men. Eggsy knew that. It was just... what if it really was him what had caused those men to take that disliking to him?  

Well, Harry needed him. Whether Harry wanted to admit it or not, so Eggsy would be imposing himself into Harry's life regardless for a bit, but it was a fine line to walk. Was he being oversensitive? He realized he was tired and that it was possible he was worrying over nothing. Harry seemed to enjoy Eggsy's presence and Eggsy just knew that Harry was delighted as fuck that Eggsy got his humor ( _Popping one's cherry_  indeed, Harry Hart)... but couldn't help the niggling worry.  

Because   _living_   with Harry...   _actually_  living with him even for a little while... was like a fantasy come true.  

Or... a very cruel tease of his deepest desire that he would never truly get to have.  

\-----  

At Eggsy's question, Harry's expression all but melted into something much softer, relaxed, as his lips curved into a gentle, fond smile. "My dear boy," He began, his mind supplying unacceptable words, such as,  _My dear boy, how can you not see how those words of yours are the farthest thing from the truth? How could I ever even begin to grow tired of your presence, your ever-present smile, your affection, your care, your kindness... How could you even think that I would want anyone but you by my side?,_ but Harry had, by now, become an expert at keeping those thoughts at bay, at pushing them down and saying completely different things while maintaining a perfectly blank face, as if nothing had happened.   

"As if that could ever happen. Now, instead of such nonsense, let's both head to sleep. You can think about it and tell me in the morning, there's hardly any rush. I don't wish to impose, of course -- it was merely a practical suggestion."  _Like hell it was, you idiot. Who do you think you're fooling? You sad, sad old sod._   

Looking down briefly at the ball of soft fur in his lap, Harry kept on repeating the subconscious, natural gesture of petting it along its tiny body and behind its ear, trying to keep everything at bay, trying to keep himself centered in the midst of all the most recent events: Merlin coming back, having to rebuild Kingsman from its ashes, having Sir Prince who was not Mr. Pickle, for Mr. Pickle was gone, along with the rest of his house, his possessions, his butterflies, his books...  

But  _Eggsy was there_ , he reminded himself. Eggsy was  _always_ there,  _as always._ And, well, if the sheer idea of living with Eggsy for an undetermined period of time was more than a little worrying for Harry, for he knew he would have the younger agent  _right there,_ in his own home, in his guest room, he also had every faith in his own ability to control himself, and take as many steps back as needed.   

\-----  

Eggsy lowered the pug puppy and grinned, broad and bright and toothy. "You're on, Harry! Roomies it is!" he exclaimed and then looked down at the puppy in his arms. Fuck what a relief! He wouldn't have to be smothered by his mum and he got to stay with Harry (where he belonged). "You 'ear fhat, Higgins? We've gotta home," Eggsy cooed goofily to the little puppy. Higgins yawned and went limp already blinking sleepily. Eggsy chuckled.  

"Yeah, alrigh’," he sighed as if Higgins had just spoken silently to him. "C'mon fhen Sir Prince. I'll take you two for walkies while your Daddy gets himself off t’bed. I'll put 'im on your bed when he's done, Harry."  

Carefully Eggsy scooped the other puppy out of Harry's lap and started making his way to the coat pegs where the leashes were hung. "Walkies" were usually a half hour long stroll around Merlin's front yard and back garden, but the puppies were both exhausted and did their business immediately. Eggsy set Sir Prince on the foot of his master’s bed while Harry was still in the bathroom so Eggsy called, "G'Night, Harry!" through the door as he passed it in his way to his own room.  

Once in the guest room Eggsy got himself situated for bed and crawled under the covers with Higgins on top of the duvet not far from him. He was as knackered as his puppy and was fast asleep in no time.  

\-----  

Harry wanted to point out that they would hardly be 'roomies', seeing as his parents' townhouse was big enough to host a very large family, and then some. It would no doubt need some fairly heavy makeover, changing things around, buying some new furniture as well, perhaps redoing the whole kitchen. Truth be told, if it were up to Harry, he would rebuild the house from the ground up. He was a deeply romantic person at heart, he liked to keep mementos, small objects and tickets and photographs, pretty much anything to help him remember things and events. But his family house and the memories that came with it were certainly not amongst the things he wanted to remember. Still, Eggsy's enthusiasm was something to be cherished, as always, so cherish it Harry did.   

He bid the younger agent goodnight, and headed upstairs, thanking him for taking care of the puppies. The tiredness that settled deep into Harry's mind and body alike was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and even though it came with rather heavy, aching thoughts, he didn't want to overthink it too much, hoping to finally get some rest.  

So it was that Harry got himself ready for bed, called out a 'good night' once more over from the bedroom threshold, and then headed straight under the covers, succumbing to sleep soon after.  

  

 _Bodies littered the floor, the benches, the wooden steps around him, beside him, yet more and more people kept coming for him. They were everywhere, faceless, nameless people -- jumping at him from behind, tackling him from the side, running towards him, armed with whatever they could find, makeshift spears made of splintered wood or other such things, trying to stab him from all sides._  

 _Harry moved and at the same time watched himself move, turn around, defend himself, and kill, and kill, kill, kill, over and over and over. It never ended._  

 _Blood, so much blood. Blood covered everything._   

 _Except, at some point, the faceless people attacking him stopped being quite so faceless, and instead started to morph into something all too painfully familiar._   

 _They were all Eggsy._   

 _Eggsy was attacking him, over and over, and Harry was killing him. Over and over. It never seemed to end. He wanted it to end, so very, very badly._  

 _There was so much blood, darkening everything, trickling down every inch of his clothes and skin, wherever it landed. It covered his hands, his arms, his face. Eggsy's blood._  

 _Harry wanted to die at Eggsy's hands a thousand times, rather than watch himself kill and butcher and shoot and stab the one person he cared most for in this world. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't control his homicidal hands and arms and legs. Couldn't control himself. Couldn't stop himself from killing Eggsy, over and over and over, when all he wanted to do was to cry and scream and sob, to fall at his feet and just **stop.**_  

 _Instead, he killed. He kept on killing. Because that's what he always did, and would always do. The only thing he knew how to do._    

\-----  

Eggsy wasn't sure what had him awake some indeterminate number of hours later, but his heart was hammering in his chest. Higgins slept on, but something told Eggsy to scoop him up (Higgins and Sir Prince were far too young to be left alone out of a crate) and get out of bed to investigate. Cautiously he cracked open his door and peered carefully into the hall. What the bloody hell had woken him up?  

The house seemed quiet but the hairs on the back of Eggsy's neck were standing on end. Something wasn't quite right... and then he heard it. Sounds of a... struggle? The sudden sharp cry of distress from Sir Prince had Eggsy bolting, Higgins tucked into his non-dominant arm. Adrenaline crashed through his system like a tidal wave, but Eggsy was a trained professional and he'd he destroying whoever had the bollocks to attack Harry  _ever_  with his bare fucking hands!  

A lot happened in the moment Eggsy literally burst through the master suite door. He immediately slid the Pug puppy to the floor and Higgins made a terrified dash for bathroom. Eggsy instantly discerned Harry was alone but for Sir Prince, who fled from the bed the moment Eggsy burst in, the Cairn Terrier pup following hot on Higgins' heels.  

"Harry?" Eggsy barely said - the assessment, pug deposit and name happening almost all at once - when Harry - graceful master assassin and superspy - came awake.  

    
\-----  

 _The slaughter never seemed to stop. It felt like every time he would take Eggsy's life, he was taking his own as well, and by doing so, he was putting an end to the very source of his own life: Eggsy._  

 _Killing had never been so painful, it had never felt anything like that a heart-wrenching agony Harry felt, the pain so deep and gnawing and all-consuming that some part of Harry was just begging, begging for it to stop. He wanted to fall to his knees, beg for forgiveness, surrender completely and just stop._  

 _He could not and would not hurt Eggsy, he would have given his life for him -- instead, he kept on taking his life the most brutal ways, over and over and over. Killing had never been so dark and horrible and black, it felt like taking his own life together with Eggsy's. But he couldn't stop. Couldn't hold back his hands. It was torture, worse than any kind Harry had ever experienced during his several years as a soldier and a Kingsman agent._    

  

Just when he thought he couldn't take any more, something in the back of his mind registered  _something_  -- something different. In a fraction of a second, as a presence was felt and acknowledged, Harry was opening his eye and moving,  _fast_. 

Before he was even fully conscious, he had slipped his gun from underneath his pillow and rolled off the bed, crouching next to the bedside table and pointing the weapon towards the presence -- or whatever it was that had woken him up in the first place. It was only as his full consciousness kicked back in and his eye clearly saw what, or rather,  _who_  he was pointing the gun at, the heavy, dark object clattered to the floor as Harry leaned heavily against the bed.  

 _He'd aimed a gun at Eggsy. His finger was on the trigger. He'd been mere moments away from pulling the trigger. He'd been about to... Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. It was the church, those moments... All over again. All over again, and he couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop his body from killing, from killing him..._  

Lightheaded as his breaths came shallow and fast, Harry looked down at his violently shaking hands, horrified at what he'd done, terrified by how much it resembled his nightmare. He hated himself for it, a bone-deep loathing that just as suddenly cemented the conviction that he was not meant to be with Eggsy. He was not meant to be with  _anyone_. He was a bloody wreck, a total and utter mess, a liability and a danger to everyone around him, Eggsy most of all. But he  _needed to know_  -- he needed to know Eggsy was alright. Harry  _needed_ to know he hadn't hurt him.  

"Eggsy— _Eggsy!_  Are you alright?  _Fuck_... I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry, Eggsy... Are you okay? Did I--?" He panted, his voice a nearly broken thing as he dared to look up, heart still thrumming madly.       

\-----  

The bang of the heavy door against the wall had to have shaken Harry out of his nightmare. Night  _terror_  more like, Eggsy reasoned having frozen completely when Harry had aimed for him. Had it been anyone else Eggsy would have hit the floor not flashed his empty open palms and softened his body language. But Harry would never shoot him. Never.  

And then Harry actually  _registered_  Eggsy... and fucking lost it.  

Eggsy had never seen Harry be anything but calm. Cool. Collected. Even fresh out of amnesia, missing an eye and confused as  _fuck all_  about the world around him, Harry Hart had never trembled let alone shaken. The clatter of the gun hitting the floor was another odd, off thing, Harry throwing it down like it had burned him rather than simply lowering it. That sound of pistol on floorboards set Eggsy in motion. He shut the door -  _make the space safe and smaller_ , whispered his instincts - and then moved forward as fast as he could in a non-threatening manner. He reached Harry just as the man turned toward him and Eggsy dropped to his knees before the other man. He pulled Harry into a  _fierce_  hug, clutching him close with everything he had. " _Easy_ , Harry. M’right here. I'm always gonna be right here. I ain't goin' anywhere. I'm fine. See? It were only a bad dream. I promise. Shhh... "  

Eggsy couldn't help the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks, because his Harry was so fucking broken and what could Eggsy do about it? He could be there. That's fucking what. Nostrils flaring, Eggsy pursed his mouth tight a moment as his entire being flared with a very primal need to kill Valentine and Gazelle all over again. More brutally.  

It took a lot to shove that down. He pressed his lips to Harry's left temple, inhaled strongly through flared nostrils (taking in the scent of sweat and fear and Harry Hart) and within a second of catching hold of his self-control murmured fiercely, "M'fine, Haz. M'right here an' I've got you."  

\-----  

In the haze of his adrenalin-filled mind, Harry's body seemed to recognize Eggsy's presence as it came close, while his mind was still fighting against the all-too-vivid images his brain had created, overlapping with the horrifying nightmare-like reality of that same moment, of a few moments prior, of pointing a gun at Eggsy and— 

" _Fuck_ , Eggsy..." He exhaled brokenly, shaking and panting and feeling utterly confused and teetering on the edge between collapse and control. His body gave a sudden jolt at first, when Eggsy wrapped his arms around him, but he did not pull away. It felt a little stifling to be enveloped so tightly while his mind was still in overdrive, yet the warm, solid and very, very  _alive_ pressure and weight of Eggsy's body against his eventually seeped into him deep enough to start calming him and grounding him to the present, to reality, bit by excruciatingly slow bit. Eggsy's soft, calming voice seemed to be muffled, as it came and went, registered by his brain only in snippets at first, until eventually he could latch onto it, its sound as necessary as breathing. Eventually, Harry's own hands slowly slid up to wrap around the smaller, sturdy body, rather loosely at first, as the adrenalin leaving his body left an exhausted heaviness in its wake.  

His mind, still tormented by the blood-curling images, seemed to have at least stopped overlapping the nightmare flashes with reality -- although a sudden, horrifying thought reminded him that, truth be told, his nightmare hadn't been all that far from reality after all. 

Just when he'd thought his guilt couldn't get any heavier, just when he'd thought his conscience was a lost cause, after Kentucky, after Merlin... --  _this_  happened.  

Without his usual control over his own body, Harry's arms tightened imperceptibly around Eggsy's body, fingers bunching into the fabric, needing to feel him, to feel his warmth, needing to feel and know that he was very much alive, and not...  

"I could have shot you." Harry heard himself say, detached and distant -- his voice was so very quiet, empty, hollow, haunted by the very,  _very_ real chance of what he could have done with the smallest slip of his finger, if his brain had just been a split second too late in coming back to and realizing just who it was that was standing before him. Or, worse, if Eggsy had taken a single step towards him while his finger was still on the trigger and he had still been in that hazy, dream-like state.  

Harry realized at once that his face was pressed into the curve of Eggsy's shoulder, and, most of all, that tears had made it warm and wet -- much like the rest of him, as the thin grey t-shirt of Merlin's that he was wearing was entirely drenched in sweat. 

   
\-----  

" _Fuck no, Harry! You wouldn't've_ ," Eggsy's lowly whispered voice held zealous conviction and fierce determination. " _You wouldn't eveh. You know it. An’ I know it._ "  

Eggsy pressed his cheek to Harry's ear and rubbed one hand (the hand of the shoulder Harry wasn't resting on) into the back of Harry's sleep tousled hair tangling his fingers to rest there. His other arm tightened low about Harry's ribs. " _Christ_ , Haz... I know you'd neveh hurt me. Don' be fuckin' ridiculous," Eggsy kept talking. It seemed like the more he talked the less Harry shook. The more even his breathing became. "I ‘ad t'ave scared the shit outta you. Banging in ‘ere lihke a bull lihke I did." Eggsy rubbed the flat of his palm along Harry's ribs where it rested. The man was rank, drenched in sweat and adrenaline/fear. Eggsy couldn't give a flying fuck and buried his nose behind Harry's ear still talking.  

"Was you dreamin' 'bout Ken-tucky?" His voice was still low, maybe a little hesitant, and, when he continued, vehement. " _Fuck Harry,_  you _know_  fhat weren't your fault. I saw the whole fucking fhing, an’ I  _know_  it weren't your fault. An’ I killed him, Harry. Valentine. For you. I could've taken him in t’the proper authorities, but I fhought 'Fuck nah. Not after whot he did t’Harry.' So he's gone an’ I'm right here, see? Everyfhing's gonna be jus' fine."  

He'd talk until he was hoarse if that's what it took to settle Harry back down. To bring him fully back to Eggsy in the here and the now. "We're a team now, yeah? Me an' you. Shit can't go pear-shaped if we stick togefher. Like Poppy Land. We fucking owned fhose douchers. You know we did."  

It was mindless, from the heart chatter. Eggsy's hands stayed firm on Harry's powerfully muscled form and he told Harry in no uncertain terms how he saw them. How he saw Harry. This man was a fucking battle tank but with Eggsy he had never been less than a gentleman, never less than kind and gentle.  

\-----  

Eggsy's closeness, his presence next to him, was a welcome, solid anchor, the only one he would have wanted next to him in that moment (not even Merlin, nor anyone else), the only one who could have dispelled the last vestiges of his nightly terror ( _Eggsy was alive, he was very much alive and breathing and talking, and not dead, very much not dead, he hadn't killed him, he was alive_ ).  

Yet Eggsy was also the very person whom Harry had hurt, deeper than words could say, both in reality and in his sleep. And yet here he was, holding onto him, holding him close, murmuring words over and over about how Harry never would've hurt him, about how Valentine had been dealt with ( _but it hadn't been Valentine in there, had it? It had been **him**. Pulling the trigger over and over, stabbing and killing and spearing and hitting, and killing, killing, killing, again and again. It had been  **him**_.) and yet, none of the words rang true inside of Harry's mind. As comforting as Eggsy's voice and words were, they just fell short when it came to what he felt, to what he  _knew_ to be true ( _no, he **didn't** know that he wouldn't have hurt him, he  **couldn't**  know -- Eggsy should not still trust him so. He must have seen, by now, just how broken he was -- what a hollow shell of a man he was. He was an assassin, a murderer. Very little else had been left of him, of the old Harry Hart_) _._  

Now that it felt like he was, at the very least, sliding back into his fully aware self, Harry realized at once the position in which they were in. Curled up against each other, on the floor, not an inch between them where their chests and arms touched, faces pressed into the side of one another's, and Eggsy's being pressed to his blind side made Harry feel it all the more, almost as if his skin were compensating the blindness by being hyper aware of the younger man's warmth, his presence, his skin, the damp streaks where Eggsy had been crying, for whatever reason. _Why had he been crying?_   

Immediately feeling like he needed some air, if nothing else to escape from the stifling, and still very real fear that was still making his limbs tremble imperceptibly, Harry slowly started to pull away, sliding out of Eggsy's embrace, away from the warm, divine palm curling in the hair above his nape, from the comforting weight of his firm closeness, even though every bone in his body cried out against the distance he was creating between them.  

"It was hardly your fault, Eggsy, coming in like that." Harry disagreed, trying to regain at least a semblance of composure in his voice. He needed to change, needed to wash his face, needed to cover his hideous missing eye. He'd been reminded of his blood-drenched hands more than enough for one night.  

"I do truly apologize. I wish I hadn't woken you up." He added, knowing how stupid and empty it sounded. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, Harry pushed himself up slowly and offered Eggsy a hand to get up.  

"I-- ... I had feared this would happen. But I should have warned you. I-- I'm not to be trusted." He confessed, words heavy with guilt as he kept his gaze lowered, averted. "I would like to go and change now, if you don't mind. You can go back to sleep. I will try my best not to disturb you again, I promise." 

\-----  

Harry's fingers were still a bit unsteady as Eggsy grasped them allowing the older man to pull him up. He hated that Harry had pulled away but definitely understood the need for space in times like these. His jaw went mulish, teeth grinding for just a second. "You can fuck righ’ off wif fhat, bruv. Fhat's a load o'bullshit. I trust you wif  _my life_. You can't change fhat." Eggsy turned away after a hard stare and whistled and kissed towards the bathroom. The puppies came tumbling out, a little cautiously at first but by the time Eggsy had scooped them up, they were wriggling balls of joy. "Take a hot shower, Harry. Yeah?"  

Eggsy was doing his very best to keep his temper in check. He hated hearing Harry talk like that and like hell he was letting Harry dismiss him. No fucking way. He was gonna take the pups out for a piss since they were up (hopefully they hadn't wet in the bathroom) and change himself and Harry's sheets. "A good long one. You deserve it."  

    
\-----  

Eggsy's words had the power, somehow, to make Harry feel both infinitely better, being so stubbornly convinced about how Harry ought to be trusted ( _with his life -- it would have been ironic, had it not ached something fierce, down to his bones_ ), and caused Harry's stomach to twist horribly, making the feeling of wrongness, acrid and burning, coat his insides and his mouth with bitter defeat.  

"Very well." He agreed, emptily, his tone almost detached as he suddenly felt the dizzying distance between him and Eggsy. He wanted to fall into his arms all over again, he wanted to hold and to be held, wanted to have him close, pressed up against him, curling into his arms. The feeling was such a strong one it made him want to weep -- it had been over all too quickly, he'd pulled away so suddenly, the fact that he'd failed to express his gratitude towards the younger man something he couldn't but feel horribly guilty over. That's when he knew that he had to beat a hasty retreat, before he did anything else that could be considered equally, monumentally stupid.  

"Thank you." Harry said, quietly, watching the younger man pick up the two over-excited balls of fur. He didn't just mean to thank him for the shower, of course. He simply didn't trust himself to say anything more than that.  

With a soft sigh, Harry turned around and, once he'd taken a change of pajamas from the dresser, headed for the bathroom, thankful that his bedroom had been shrouded in near-darkness, so that Eggsy hadn't seen his eye once again. He knew it wouldn't be the first time, but...  

Closing the door behind him, Harry turned on the shower, stripped and then stepped inside. He stood there for some time, his arms braced against the wall, letting the water drum onto his skin. He tried to push everything away, from his mind and from his body, before he started to wash himself in earnest. There were muffled barking sounds coming from outside of the bathroom that somehow helped him, keeping him grounded to the present, to the here and now. There was no barking in his nightmares. No  _puppy_ barking, for sure.  

When he was done, Harry gave himself a cursory dry, changed into his dry pajamas, toweled his hair and combed it until it had at least a somewhat decent shape, then headed out of the bathroom -- and it was to his great surprise that he found Eggsy, apparently busy both changing the sheets to his bed and laughing around with two tiny balls moving around underneath the white fabric. 

\-----  

As soon as Harry was behind the closed bathroom door Eggsy let out a silent curse and took the puppies out. Once they has pottied, Eggsy wiped the dew off their little feet, legs and bellies. They followed him at happy little trots to his room where he grabbed a change of pyjamas, splashed his face and throat with water in the bathroom, changed and then grabbed a new set of sheets. In all of this, as he let himself back in, turned on the light to Harry's room and set about ripping the sheets and pillowcases from the mattress, Eggsy's mind churned.  

Harry was a fucking wreck. Eggsy loved him anyway.  _Fiercely_. And maybe Harry would never feel romantically for Eggsy but they were still more than best mates. He'd stay by Harry no matter what came their way. He'd prove Harry's worth and goodness to Harry even if it were the last thing he did. Eggsy wouldn't -  _couldn't_  - do anything less.  

Once the fitted sheet was on, Eggsy scooped the pups onto the bed and tossed the flat sheet over them asking in an excited voice, "Where did y’go boys?!" Then he whisked the sheet off, exclaiming emphatically, "Fhere you is!" much to the delight of the puppies who took off running like crazy all over the mattress. When they got near each other, Eggsy tossed the sheet on them again and pushed them gently round with careful hands. The ruckus they put up, tiny play-growls and yapping and flailing little paws, was hilarious and Eggsy felt lighter-hearted for it.  

He needed to get his head in order so that he could be everything Harry needed him to be. Right now, Harry needed him to seem unconcerned by anything but Harry's well-being. They were fine. Everything was fine. Eggsy wanted to be right where he was without a shadow of doubt. Eggsy whisked the sheet off the tussling puppies again exclaiming, "Found you!" just as Harry walked back out of the shower. As the puppies ran around the bed play-biting each other, Eggsy turned to Harry with a bright, happy-to-see-you smile that was toothy and joyful. "Jus' tirin'em out. You ready for bed?"  

\-----  

Harry stood, momentarily left speechless, as he watched Eggsy playing around with the puppies. His light laughter, his wide smile, the way his eyes crinkled with mirth, along with the carefree way the puppies moved and barked and rolled on top of each other -- it all felt almost surreal to Harry. Like something suddenly jolting him back awake. Eggsy wasn't angry at him then, because for whatever reason his broken mind had somehow conjured up that hypothesis, somewhere between the shower and exiting the bathroom, and he hadn't even been aware of it. No, instead, there he was. Smiling, laughing, making his bed, tending to him. Being with him, being there  _for_ him...  

Once more, Harry found himself floored by the younger man's generosity, by those actions of his born of his selfless, kind-hearted spirit, which Harry wasn't entirely sure he deserved. 

"I... Yes. Yes, I think so." Harry replied carefully, unsure what to expect as he walked around to the bedside table and fished out of its drawer the eyepatch he'd been keeping there, the one he'd kept from his long months at Statesmen. He slipped it on, somehow feeling like he couldn't bear the weight of the Kingsman glasses, as if they carried the weight of being a Kingsman agent as well, something which he most definitely did not feel like being, in that moment. It was a ridiculous notion, but then again, his brain seemed to have come up with quite a few of those in the past hour or so, so he was hardly surprised.  

"You needn't have bothered, Eggsy, I could have just slept on the other side." Harry said as he picked up Sir Prince with one hand, holding him to his chest, while he helped Eggsy finish up with the sheets and the bedding, clearly thinking that the lad would simply head to his own bed when that was done with.  

"Thank you, though."  

\-----  

When Harry scooped up Sir Prince, Eggsy picked up Higgins and together he and Harry in almost perfect sync made the bed up. Eggsy kept quiet, other than kisses and coos to Higgins. But the moment the bed was made he placed the pug at the foot of the bed, tugged the covers back, and slid right in.  

"In ya get, Harry." Eggsy patted the empty space beside him. "We're havin' a slumber party." He grinned and glanced down when Higgins huffed out a content sigh after curling up between Eggsy's feet. Those clear green eyes turned back to Harry, Eggsy's face open and happy, as if rejection or dismissal weren't even a possibility in his world. "Won't be braidin' anyone's hair, but we can talk about boys or anyfhing you want reahlly. But I ain't goin' anywhere else tonight, ya get me?"  

Harry wouldn't kick him out. Eggsy just knew he wouldn't. And Eggsy would make sure Harry stayed. Somehow. If he tried to leave.  

\-----  

When Eggsy all but slid right into bed after they'd finished remaking it, Harry stood there looking, staring rather stupidly and wordlessly as his still slightly disconnected, sluggish brain struggled to process what had only just happened.  

Eggsy, in his bed, blabbering something about...  _braiding hair_ and  _talking about boys. What was he on about? And why...?_

Harry's stomach tightened with embarrassment -- clearly Eggsy thought he had to look over him, make sure he didn't fuck up any further, or any worse. The gun was gone from the floor, thankfully, and Harry would hardly go looking for it, no matter how much sleeping without a weapon beneath his pillow was something that he never did unless necessary for a mission, or other such situations.  

"I'm afraid I am a few years past the acceptable age for a slumber party, Eggsy." Harry said, slowly, brow furrowing, as if he were still trying to suss out something. But then again, the plain statement Eggsy had said for last ( _I ain't goin' anywhere else tonight, ya get me?_ ), as if it were the truth, plain and simple, and not an offer, not even an imposition. It was just a fact -- and the  _fact_ was that Eggsy was, once more, proving himself an unrelenting, loyal, steadfast presence, his mental stronghold, a steady mast in his mind's maelstrom.  

That sheer realization was enough to drain what little energy to argue Harry had managed to scrape up, and reverse him back to that floating, drained,  _exhausted_ state both in body and mind. He realized he didn't want to argue, didn't want to push back, didn't want to deny himself this small, small chance at having a tiny bit of reprieve and relief.  

"I don't imagine I'll have to remark on how ungentlemanly your stubbornness is." Harry quipped, though his voice only betrayed tiredness and a none-too-small hint of fondness, as he then finally,  _finally,_ slid into bed, almost sighing at the soft, fresh feeling of clean sheets against his warm body.  

He mentally complimented himself on having put on the eyepatch, even though it was slightly uncomfortable -- it was still better than sleeping with the glasses on -- though his tired mind only belatedly registered Eggsy's words ( _we can talk about **boys**_ );it clearly meant nothing though. It was probably just a casual way to show his support, his acceptance, and it was part of Eggsy's slumber party joke as a whole. There was no reason to dwell on it.  

"Would you be so kind as to turn off the light?" Harry asked, hoping to find some reprieve from the embarrassment in the familiar cloak of darkness, if nothing else.  

\-----  

Eggsy scoffed when Harry tried to argue that he was too old for a slumber party, but he came round fast enough to getting into bed that Eggsy didn't have to argue. Which was perfect. Eggsy watched Sir Prince curl up beside Higgins and rest his head over the back of Higgins' neck but Harry was asking him to get the lights so he rousted himself from the bed - careful of the pups who seemed to have gained fifty pounds each with as unmoving as they were while Eggsy pulled his middle most foot out of the sheets - and went to the light switch as he said cheerily, "Sure fhing, Guvnor."  

He gave himself just enough of a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dark and then slid back under the covers. He let silence settle for a moment as he got comfortable and tossed his left arm behind his head. He was on Harry's left side - by design - and wanted to be able to turn his head to look at the other man without his larger-than-it-once-was bicep getting in the way.  

Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Eggsy started talking.  

"First bird I evah dated's name was Rose. She was two years older'n me. I was fifteen at the time. She cheated on me two weeks in. I guess maybe we wasn't actually datin'. I jus’ didn't get fhat." He huffed softly and scratched idly at the middle of his chest. "First bloke, I evah fhought I might get wif's name was Eddie. Good times right fhere. He was visitin' from the States. Fhought I was gorgeous an’ couldn't keep his hands off me. Weren't no way it could've been serious fhough. He was only round for a couple months. Learned a lot fhat summer even fhough we neveh got past a couple handies and a couple blowies."  

Eggsy sniffed a little, in fond amusement, and splayed his hand over his own hammering heart. He could look back on those memories now and while he still felt a small twinge for how easily he was cast aside by his two first relationships, he no longer felt so devastated. More or less. "I know a gentleman doesn't kiss an' tell, but we're mates right? An’ better'n'best friends. Fhis is the kind of stuff we share wif each ofher."  

Anything to get Harry's mind off the fucking church. And if it had the added bonus of potentially gleaning a little bit more knowledge about his greatest obsession, well... that was a win! Right?  

    
\-----  

Harry almost sighed in relief when the room was once more shrouded in darkness. It wasn't completely dark, as the curtains still allowed some of the yellowish light from the street lamps to bleed in from the street outside.  

Harry realized at once that he'd missed it: the familiarity of London's sleepless nights, the noises here and there, near and far, almost a reminder that he was  _there, in that moment,_ and not back in the church. Not back in the blind, empty darkness of the Statesman cell. Not back in his blood-drenched, horrifying nightmare.  

He listened to the soft, rustling sounds of Eggsy padding across the now dark room and sliding back underneath the covers; he tried to concentrate on Eggsy’s somehow relaxing presence rather than on the edge of worry sliding into the back of his mind.  _How was he allowing this? How was this even happening?_  The fact that Eggsy cared  _so much_  that he went as far as wanting to sleep in the same bed as him... What if he simply wanted to keep an eye on him? It all made very little sense to Harry, but he decided his confusion was due to his extreme tiredness and to the utter chaos currently going rampant in his exhausted mind.  

When Eggsy started to talk about his relationships, Harry was left speechless. He thought Eggsy had been joking, but...  _Fuck._ So, apparently not only was Eggsy sharing his love and sex life with Harry, to a certain extent (he hadn't been joking earlier, about sharing stories), but he was rather clearly, undoubtedly, into men as he was into women. It was... something of a revelation.  _Eggsy was into men, as well._ Harry allowed himself a few moments of silence to truly digest the new information, deciding that he would follow Eggsy's example and simply say nothing about it. It was a perfectly normal, acceptable thing, just as the sky was blue, Eggsy was bisexual, the grass was green and Harry was as gay as they came.  

"We're human beings, first and foremost, Eggsy. And I would consider myself grateful and fortunate if you felt comfortable enough to tell me anything." Harry replied, surprised at how honest and quiet his voice sounded in the night that filled the room, where everything felt closer despite the fact that distances couldn't be seen nor told apart.  

"This... Eddie -- I understand you were rather taken with him?" Harry carefully asked, trying to maintain his tone as even and composed as possible. 

\-----  

Two missions accomplished: the first hurdle to potentially, maybe pursuing a relationship with Harry was overcome by Harry now knowing of Eggsy's sexual orientation, and, given his tone, Harry was now engrossed in the topic of conversation and not thinking about the bloody fucking church in Kentucky or Kentucky in general. Feeling good about the little successes, Eggsy shifted a bit to get comfortable and answered in complete honesty.  

"I'd've followed him t’the bloody colonies, but he jus' wanted a bit o'fun. A good time t' look back on. Liked him a helluva lot more'n the ofher bloke I almost slept wif. Fhat was a drunken mistake fhat I was lucky enough t'save myself from. The only real serious relationship I've had was Tilde an' fhat was tits up from the start really." Eggsy sighed. "Birds is hard. Fhey've got all of fhese expectations. Blokes are a lot more fun, but never wanna settle down lihke me. Fhey’re mostly jus' loohkin’ for a place to wet fheir dick." With a shrug Eggsy looked over to Harry studying his shadowed shape in the dark. "So, despite whot people might fhink - much lihke the drugs - I don't have as much experience wif all of fhis as people might fhink. Three girls. Almost two boys. Not fhat I'm notchin' the bedpost. It's jus’ hard not t'remember when it's so few, yeah?"  

Eggsy looked back to the ceiling. "I could've fallen for Eddie. But... I'm glad I didn't. Cuz here I am."  

\-----  

 _He clearly didn't deserve you,_ came the thought inside of Harry’s mind, unbidden and seemingly out of nowhere.  

As tired and detached from himself as Harry felt, he was thankful that he still managed to keep a decent hold on himself, and control the rather invasive and unneeded thoughts concerning Eggsy like he'd long since learned to do. Small mercies, seeing as Eggsy had pretty much just seen him at his worse. He hadn't wanted to look at himself in the mirror, afraid of what he'd see there, the haunted look in his one good eye and the missing part of him that was perfectly mirrored in the missing part of his face.  

But there Eggsy was, chatting on idly about his past girlfriends  _and_ boyfriends, as if nothing were amiss. It all felt rather surreal, but for whatever reason, it seemed to be working. Harry's mind was no longer completely adrift in the tempestuous sea of his nightmare-induced thoughts and the far-too-vivid images his brain had conjured.  

"Men are different, yes. Some more willing to settle down than others. Some do indeed slither away just when things seemed to have settled. I don't think it's a matter of men, or women." Harry replied, his voice taking on a somewhat composed, almost airy tone, as if he were stating platitudes that were, in truth, much closer and personal than it would have seemed.  

"People who like to categorize others, fit them into neat little boxes... What a sad life they must lead. Nothing is ever that simple, and for someone to take a look at  _you_  and think they have it all figured out--" Harry let out a soft, breathy little chuckle, starting to feel the tiredness seep back into his limbs, bit by bit.  _Sad, sad little lives indeed._    

\-----  

Harry was relaxing. Eggsy could tell because the edge was wearing off the man like water smoothing stone. Feeling a touch relieved that this was all working, that Harry was settling down again, the younger agent began to relax the rest of the way as well. Higgins was snoring softly between his feet and Eggsy couldn't help but feel like this was the best night of his life so far, defeating a sword-legged-ninja-Amazon and saving the world twice over no match for a night on this level of amazing.  

Fuck but he had it so bad for Harry Hart.  

"Posh to tough. Girls to bruvs, Harry," Eggsy sighed. "None of'em wanted jus’ me. Fhey wanted my face t’please'em an’ make people around'em jealous. Or my chav attitude an' flair t'piss off fheir dads. You're the first person t'see more fhan a bratty son actin' out cuz 'is dad's dead. Or the bastard good for nofhing son of the bird you're bangin'. Or the troubled boy who maybe jus’ needs some counselin'."  

Eggsy sighed then shook his head. Time to pull himself out of his little wallow before he really got into it, though it bugged him a shit ton less than it used to. Thanks to Harry helping him find the diamond under all the coal he'd been coated with his whole life. As far as Eggsy was concerned Harry was his everything: savior, mentor, friend above all, the love of his life, the center of his heart and life-vein of his soul. No one else would do. And from the moment Tequila had flipped the feed on the one way glass Eggsy had vowed there would be no one else whether Harry would have him or not. His bespoke trousers had been soaked with Statesman whiskey and there had been a gun to Harry's head and all Eggsy could think in that moment had been  _he's_   ** _alive_** _thank fuck_. Fucking hell, he'd never been so terrified in his life as when he'd thought Tequila might pull the trigger. Turned out Eggsy wasn't as fearless as he'd tried to have Roxy believe.  

"Whot about you? Any great loves lost, Harry?"  

Yeah it was definitely time to pull himself out of his swallowing. Harry was the focus here though a different kind of focus than he'd just been.  

    
\-----  

Harry remained silent, quietly seething and feeling outrage for all those morons, those idiots who had treated Eggsy in such a horrible manner. It wasn't just that he lacked objectivity, being perhaps the most biased individual walking the planet when it came to Eggsy -- because if it were for him, he would worship him, he would pamper him, show him with words and actions and mouth and hands just how utterly, deeply, completely, immensely amazing he was. 

Eggsy, with that huge heart of his, all those emotions, those feelings, that brilliant, quick-thinking mind, and a heart worn so defiantly and proudly on his sleeve -- something anyone else would feel and consider as a weakness, but not Eggsy, no, to him it was a strength --  _his_ strength. For that reason, and for many, many more reasons, Eggsy deserved better. He deserved so much better than what any of those idiots had given him, and yes, he deserved so much better than what Harry could give him. He deserved the  _best._  

Harry, on the other hand, broken as he was, the jagged pieces of him barely put together, mismatched and still bleeding, merely a shadow of his former himself, a trained assassin with innocent blood on his hands, a murderer with a heart-shaped missing piece inside of his chest.  

The nightmare still whispered behind his eyes as soon as he dared to close them, and not even Eggsy could take that away from him. He could not take away those images, because they were not a fixture of his mind -- they were the  _truth._ They reproduced nothing, except what had actually happened, in that church, and right outside of it.  

"Not lost, no." Harry replied softly, taking a deep, slow breath before replying. "Given up, rather. Against my wishes and my better judgement. But it was a long time ago, it is hardly an interesting tale to be told."   

\-----  

Eggsy sighed. "C'mon Haaaaz...." Eggsy groaned rolling his eyes and tossing his head side to side on his arm. He'd gotten away with the nickname twice now and felt a trembling sense of intimacy from daring to try it again. "Fhat ain't how it works. It's a back an’ forfh. C'mon, spill!"  

He didn't want to really push Harry but if ever there was a time that they would be able to share such personal information it would be rare moments like this. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Harry. Where he grew up, what his favorite ice cream was, if there was a spot anywhere on Harry's neck - like there was just under Eggsy's jaw - that would turn him on and melt his spine. Eggsy swallowed hard and bit his lower lip. Not a good turn for his thoughts given the circumstances. Now he should be focusing on waiting for Harry's next words.  

\-----  

   
The nickname felt odd, yet oddly familiar. Harry could’ve sworn it wasn’t the first time he was hearing it — perhaps from before Kentucky? Had Eggsy created that very nickname during the twenty four hours they’d spent together before Eggsy’s final test?  _Christ_ , that felt like ages ago. A lifetime ago -- and, well, in a way, ironically, it was.  

Harry wasn't sure if he liked it or not; he'd never been a huge fan of nicknames, even though Eggsy's name itself was a nickname, and his own name was actually a nickname of his much longer, much more ridiculous name... Either way, Harry still hadn't decided how he felt about it, when Eggsy urged him to 'spill' about his so-called relationship history.  

His father's shadow loomed over his life no matter where he started from, so Harry figured he might as well give a general idea without going into too much detail. He was tired anyway, and there were only so many defensive walls he could put up around himself after what had just happened. He still felt odd, like something was out of place, vulnerable and somewhat needing to retreat into a cocoon, rather than opening himself up for Eggsy to see how vulnerable and still raw he was. He didn't want Eggsy to see that part of him just yet, or ever, if he could help it.  

"I've only had one long, meaningful relationship." Harry began, rubbing one hand over his good eye, burning and tired. His voice was stripped of its usual crisp, sharp inflexion, still inherently posh-sounding but softer around the edges with sleep and the quiet intimacy of the moment.  

"It was hard, you see. Growing up when I did... Some boys at Eton would experiment, try things out. There was hardly much choice, being in an all-boys boarding college thirteen years of age and older. But things weren't... friendly. Open. Not as much as they are today." Harry said, taking a moment to push away the memory of his younger self, embarrassingly attracted to fit, lithe young men, but unable to share it with anyone, not until Merlin came around.  

"It was only at Oxford that I met someone. Leonide, a French student who'd gotten into Oxford on an athletic scholarship. We were together for nearly three years, I believe... Before the army got in the way." The older man concluded simply, not wanting to delve any deeper into the matter and leaving it at that. 

\----- 

Fatigue. Eggsy could hear it clearly in Harry's voice. Now was a good time to maybe back off and let Harry rest. Turning onto his side facing Harry, he folded his arm under his head settling. "M'sorry, Harry. I reahlly am. You deserve betteh’n someone who can't appreciate whot a fucking hero you are." 

Eggsy reached over and put a hand on Harry's shoulder squeezing. He wanted to offer comfort and solidarity. To be what Harry needed. To fulfill Harry's needs. 

\----- 

Harry heard the soft rustling of sheets and the bed dipping towards him. Glancing out of his good eye, Harry confirmed what he'd thought; Eggsy had turned towards him, and was now looking at him and--  _oh_.  _Of course_. Searching for contact, which admittedly, was rather nice.  

Only, it had very little to do with something which had happened over twenty five years prior, and - in Harry's mind - everything to do with certain mental images that little talk they'd just had had somehow managed to keep at bay. Everything felt more... quiet, now. Settled, almost. Harry didn't want to fool himself into thinking that everything would simply be gone with just a snap of his finger, with a simple talk over their respective past relationships, but  _this_... He could perhaps allow himself to have this. To enjoy this. To take what little comfort he could, while it lasted, while it helped. And it helped, it most certainly seemed to do so, at least.  

"There's hardly anything to be sorry about, my dear Eggsy. It was a long time ago." Harry said softly, daring to close his eyes as he took a deep breath. "I’m hardly the hero you say I am." 

 _A hero doesn't murder a church full of innocent people. Bigoted, racist, homophobic, hatred-filled, narrow-minded people, yes. But innocent people, civilians, nonetheless._  

\----- 

"Bullshit." Eggsy was fierce. "You cracked Valentine's whole fuckin' plot! Wifhout you I neveh woulda stopped the whole fuckin' mess. I won't ‘ave you or anybody else say one fuckin' fhing t'the contrary! You hear me, Harry?" 

Eggsy's voice was low and firm. The hand on Harry's shoulder grew a bit tighter. He couldn't just lay there and let Harry say such utter shite about himself. He couldn't. 

   
\----- 

“Like I said, it was a long time ago, Eggsy. Nothing to fret over or to think about. I have hardly thought about him in years.” Harry admitted, feeling some part of him shrink every time Eggsy was so adamant at defending his honor and his merits and his apparently heroic gestures.  

It wasn’t as if Harry liked to be that falsely modest person who would always brush off their deeds — he had saved people, nations, families, lives, more times than he could count, more times than he could remember. But that was not the point. He wanted Eggsy to see that he  _had not_  understood, back then, he  _had not_  seen Valentine’s true weapon -- not until it was too late -- not until the floor wept with blood: the blood of the innocent, and his own. 

“I hear you, yes. I don’t necessarily agree with you, however.” Harry replied, quietly exhausted. He’d only just woken up from a PTSD-induced nightmare ( _yes, he could read into his own mental health status pretty well, thank you very much_ ), and the last thing he needed or wanted was an argument with Eggsy.  

“Are you sure you want to stay here for the night?” Harry asked after a few moments, feeling suddenly  unsure all over again, like he was missing something. How could Eggsy still trust him so? Would he simply stay awake for the rest of the night? 

\----- 

Harry was withdrawing. Eggsy could feel it. He'd pushed too hard. Been too ferocious in his defense of the very man he spoke to. Fuck, why couldn't he ever check his damn mouth! He always ended up chasing people away at least to a distance of some amount. Maybe this right here was really why his mum's lovers never liked him. He was too hot and cold. All in or all out. Even his mates only came round when they knew he wasn't on about something other than Dean. Dean they could all agree had been a piece of shite. Hell, Eggsy half suspected Eddie had seen the boiling passions in him and hadn't wanted more than a sip. Eggsy knew he was a lot of fire and fierceness, and it mostly served him well in Kingsman, but he was still learning to temper that flame and cool that fierceness to the sharpness of a knife's edge, rather like Harry did he reckoned. Or maybe he was very off and Harry didn't need any of that.  What did Eggsy know? 

Pursing his lips, Eggsy gave Harry's shoulder a last squeeze. He wasn't taking it back. But he could say, "M'sorry." And he could have that simple, heartfelt phrase mean a lot. 

It meant he was sorry for what Harry had lost with this past lover. It meant Eggsy was sorry for all the shit Harry had gone through, for his whacked out mindfuck and his amnesia and that his recovery had been rough enough to put him on the floor of an American pub and under Eggsy's suspicions for even those few seconds before Eggsy had gone all in and lied about how Whiskey had been shot. It meant that he was sorry that Harry was still suffering from the trauma of what Valentine had done to him, something outside of Harry's control. It meant Eggsy was sorry that his unshakeable faith in the man had made Harry uncomfortable somehow. It meant sorry that Eggsy couldn't be more and that he probably wasn't enough of what Harry needed to make any of this better. 

"I'd still rafher stay, so... Night, Harry," he added and slowly pulled his hand away, slipping it from Harry's shoulder aiming to end up resting near his chin on his pillow. Resolutely, Eggsy closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath. He needed to sleep and worrying over something he couldn't change and wouldn't take back did him no favors. 

\----- 

Feeling like something had most definitely shifted between them, and not in a good way, Harry realized at once he'd been too hard, too harsh -- he'd been hellbent on keeping everything to himself, on protecting himself while still feeling so vulnerable, so raw and hurt from what he'd relived in his nightmare, from what he'd imagined himself doing... He wished he didn't, but in truth he blamed himself for pushing Eggsy away, because even though it was for Eggsy's own good, Harry still felt awful and guilty about it. Eggsy was only trying to help -- he'd been there, he'd taken Harry into his arms, he hadn't pushed him away, he hadn't reacted badly to Harry pointing a fucking  _gun_ at him (like any other person would have). Harry had managed to push all of that away for a few minutes, for more than a few minutes, between the shower and making the bed together and being in bed, cloaked in darkness, talking about everything and nothing, learning about Eggsy's life...  

But the truth was that his hands felt heavy and dirty with blood -- innocent blood.  _Eggsy's_  blood -- his nightmare still far too vivid and crawling beneath his skin. But Eggsy needed to know, Eggsy  _deserved_ to know how grateful Harry was.  

Just as Eggsy was pulling his hand away, Harry's own hand shot out as he tilted his head towards him, and managed to blindly grab his wrist thanks to his carefully honed reflexes.  

"Thank you, Eggsy," Harry said, the words heavy and meaningful, a soft rumble of his voice in the heavy darkness, as his hold on the younger man's wrist softened and he  _dared_ to run his thumb on the inside of his wrist, over his veins, over the soft thrum of his heartbeat ( _he's alive -- you didn't hurt him. You've hurt him in the past. You can hurt him again. He can defend himself. You didn't hurt him_ ).  

Then, gently letting go, Harry turned onto his other side, facing away from Eggsy. "Good night." 

\----- 

The grip on his retreating wrist was a surprise. The fleeting soft caress against the things in of the inside of his wrist pleasantly even more so. Eggsy didn't say anything back for a moment, but he couldn't keep the words, "s'whot mates does, bruv," from escaping his throat as his hand settled near his chin as originally intended. 

So maybe he hadn't entirely cocked it all up. He needed to remember that here was no clear path here. Harry was pretty lost right now and Eggsy had to stay strong for him and for Merlin. For Kingsman. 

Eggsy drifted off to thoughts of bespoke suits, a faint Scottish brogue and the guiding voice of his mentor in his memory. 


	4. To the place I belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: masturbation in this chapter
> 
> The title for this chapter was inspired by, of course: ["Take Me Home, Country Roads" by John Denver](https://open.spotify.com/track/2xYlyywNgefLCRDG8hlxZq?si=Sl5FkWjRSkSyqiPCn8wZrw>) because MERLIN LIVES.

He awoke warm. More comfortable than he could remember being in a long, long time. And it wasn't any wonder because  _hello_... he wasn't alone in bed. 

 _Harry_. 

Eggsy groaned softly, brain flicking to life like cold neon. Slow and in stages. He was definitely snuggled and cuddled up behind Harry, one arm heavy and tight-locked around and high up on Harry's waist. In fact his hand was splayed over Harry's slow, steady heartbeat. Eggsy's head was pillowed on his own arm but despite their height difference Eggsy had nuzzled his nose right into the hair at Harry's nape. His knees were tucked in and fitted up behind Harry's thighs and Eggsy was hard as a fucking rock pressed snug against Harry's ass. For several terrified heartbeats his heat was skipping through his chest at frantic speed before he got ahold of himself. He inhaled deeply for one lingering, stolen moment. He couldn't resist the urge to brush a warm, loving kiss to the soft, hot skin just under his own nose. Then, a bit reluctantly, Eggsy extracted himself as stealthily as possible. Harry must still trust him a bit though Eggsy more suspected the fatigue for the clean getaway. 

He took the puppies and took them out. It was about nine. Not a terrible wake up time considering they hadn't slept much lately and then how long they'd been up after Harry's nightmare. Once the puppies were pottied, fed and pottied again, Eggsy grabbed one of his leather suit bags from the closet and headed into the shower. Merlin's home had fucking amazing water pressure and Eggsy found his cock coming back to full hardness (having gone just a bit less than half mast while he started his day). Bracing one hand on the wall, he bowed his head under the spray and wrapped strong fingers around his aching dick. The flesh was hard and the skin loose and velvety in his hand and Eggsy closed his eyes and purred. "Mmmf..." 

Harry had been one long, hot bit of solid in Eggsy's arm, pressed as tight to him as he'd been pressed to Harry. Fuck but that had been beautiful. He could wake up like that for the rest of his life! Slowly he started an easy squeeze and stroke rhythm on his throbbing prick, biting his lower lip on a sob of pleasure. He had time. Harry wouldn't know because Harry wouldn't know how long Eggsy had been in the shower given he was probably even still asleep. Eggsy could take his time and knock one out nice and slow. 

The hot water sluiced down his muscles and Eggsy closed his eyes again (having briefly opened them) on the sight of his own hand on his erection and imagined that he'd woken this morning the other way around. What would it have been like to have all that power curled protectively, possessively at his back?  _Fuck_. Eggsy's wrist started to add in a little twist over the head, twisting his foreskin a bit and smearing away the drool of precum, making his dick jerk in his hand needily. To have Harry wrapped around him... to have them naked... to feel Harry's fingers press inside him... Eggsy's arousal was burning hot through his whole body and his mind frantically chased the urgent thoughts of his fantasy the same way his hand began to work his cock faster. Shit, what he wouldn't give to have Harry rolling him forward and pushing him down on his belly on the mattress with those long, talented fingers still up his ass, playing, stretching him out. 

“ _Shit_ ," he breathed breath coming faster as fantasy Harry lined up his own heavy, engorged cock and started to push inside Eggsy's fantasy self's well stretched hole. Harry would be talking to him the whole time, Eggsy was as certain of that as he was of how much he wanted to be held down and slow fucked to euphoria. He could feel the pressure building, could feel his balls getting tight, could feel the heat of his aching want coiling. His hand worked faster and he moaned, glad he was in the bathroom down the hall. In his mind, Harry nibbled his ear and whispered encouragement, praise, and Eggsy whimpered, "Please...  _fuck_...." on a soft whine as fantasy Harry ordered him to cum in a soft, loving tone and he fucking lost it. " _Harry_.... Mmmnnfff...." 

It was a much needed, long put off orgasm and his knees went out. He didn't hit the tub floor hard, more sinking, shaking, to his knees and breathing heavy through his nose as he groaned and milked the last of his ejaculation from himself, watching it wash down the drain in a daze. 

"Fuck.... hnnf..." he muttered panting as the warm water plastered his hair to his skull and forehead. He gave himself a long few minutes before forcing himself up and mechanically washing up. He was in a blissed out daze as he turned off the shower, toweled down, shaved, and partially dressed. He did his hair and feeling life thrumming through his very being - damn that had felt fucking aces! - Eggsy headed downstairs to make breakfast with the puppies at his heels. 

He got the radio on after draping his jacket and tie over the back of a chair, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work making up cut up fruit bowls, omelets filled with chopped veggies and cheese and some tea. To his delight, the radio was set to a wonderful station playing music from the 70s and 80s and before long he was singing along to Queen's "Killer Queen" (a song that recently had come to hold a special place in his heart given its talk of seduction and explosives) and shimmying about the kitchen, spirits lifted jubilantly after such a fucking fantastic morning. 

 

\----- 

 

To say that Harry slept like the dead would have been a somewhat ironic assessment, though not too far from the truth, all things considered. He had fallen into a deep sleep, blessedly unencumbered by nightmares, and waking up had been much like falling asleep had been, only in reverse -- turning a switch back on. In his life, Harry had rarely needed to stop outright to take in his surroundings, because his mind always had an idea of where he was, of all the closest exits and escape routes (both conventional and unconventional), of all blind spots and weak spots and safe spots within any room he had ever found himself in, courtesy of his decades of military and superspy careers. Yet it surprised him to actually  _be_ surprised, though not by the room itself but rather... By  _who_ was in it.  

The memories shot back into his mind at once --  _the nightmare, the terror, the images_... And then  _Eggsy_. Eggsy in his arms, or rather, him in  _Eggsy's_ arms, the gun, the crying, being held so wonderfully, the shower, the bed-making, the puppies, the odd yet somewhat reassuring talk that Harry had managed to poison and spoil nonetheless. The wrist, soft and warm and  _alive_. Though, perhaps, the same could be said of the arm he felt around his torso, going up along his ribs, then splaying possessively over his chest.  _Eggsy's_ arm.  _Eggsy's_ hand. The rest of his body, too, was pressed so wonderfully, so deliciously against his back, possessive yet comforting, somehow feeling safe and protective even though there was nothing to protect him from -- at least, nothing coming from the outside world.  _Those_ threats, Harry could easily deal with, as could Eggsy.  

Harry couldn't deny how wonderful it felt. The closeness, the warmth, the intimacy of it, and yes, even the morning boner pressed, hard and unmistakable, against the round swell of his arse. It didn't have to mean anything, it was mere biology, especially when one was as young and fit as Eggsy was. However, no matter how wonderful it had felt to be in Eggsy's arms, Harry felt how  _wrong_ it was -- a stolen, prohibited thing, one best left to his most crushed and denied fantasies. It would never happen -- Eggsy was better off with someone else, someone who deserved him, someone pure and unbroken, like him. Someone who didn't dream of killing him over and over and woke him up with the screaming and the thrashing.  

Just as he had been thinking about how best to pull himself away from the embrace, Harry had felt Eggsy's body go less pliant, more rigid, as wakefulness eased into his body. The way Eggsy's arm had tightened imperceptibly around him rather than letting him go immediately, the way he pressed closer still, and then-- the deep breath (was Eggsy  _sniffing_ him?), which made Harry realize how close Eggsy's lips and face had been to the back of his head and  _then_ \-- soft lips pressed lightly to his nape.  _Soft, gentle, warm_. It made Harry go entirely still, though he knew he couldn't go rigid, couldn't reveal his own wakefulness, not now. No,  _fuck_.  _What was that_?  

Moments later, the bed had dipped and whispered with moving sheets as the younger man had pulled away, leaving Harry to listen to his own quickened heartbeat and utterly confused mind, his eyes still closed as Eggsy had picked up the two puppies, who had been curled around their feet. 

When Harry woke up next, realizing at once that he must have drifted off again against his better judgement, he was turned around on his other shoulder, arms emptily reaching out to where Eggsy had slept. The sheets were cold -- he must have slept for nearly another hour. With a sigh, Harry pushed himself up and rubbed at his good eye, feeling immensely better for the extra hours of sleep. It was nearly ten in the morning, or so the clock on the nightstand told him, and Harry found he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept that long.  

He wondered briefly where Eggsy was, and how best to address what had happened. He wouldn't mention the kiss from earlier that morning, and  _fuck_ if that didn't still haunt his mind.  _Did it mean what Harry suspected it did?_  

He hoped that Eggsy would refrain from mentioning the nightmare and the far too embarrassing and vulnerable moments that had followed ( _the breakdown, the tears, the rather mortifying memory of a one-meter-and-eighty-seven-tall superspy and trained killer, curled up on the floor, gasping for air and trembling like a leaf_ ). Swallowing the bitterness in his mouth at the mortifying mental image, Harry made himself go about his morning duties as usual, feeling a bit more like himself with every step of his routine. He relieved himself, showered, got dressed in a clean, dark blue suit, brushed his teeth, styled his hair, slipped on his glasses and then, finally, left the room.  

The sound of music echoed in growing loudness from the kitchen ( _caviar and cigarettes, well versed in etiquette, extraordinarily nice_...), along with the delicious smell of cooked breakfast -- eggs, if Harry's sense of smell wasn't off. As he rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen, his eyes immediately found him:  _there_ he was, moving about, swaying, wiggling his hips and singing along to Freddie Mercury's voice with his own, surprisingly rich and marvelous voice.  

"Good morning, Eggsy," Harry greeted, aiming for formal and composed, but unable to help a  fond smile from pulling at his lips in front of such an endlessly endearing sight, feeling as if he were interrupting something precious and wonderful. Eggsy was clearly in a good mood and Harry wouldn't have wanted to spoil it for the world. He wanted to ask so many things --  _did you sleep well? Did I bother you? Did I wake you up again? What did you mean by that kiss?_  -- but bit down on his tongue instead and waited for Eggsy to set the tone for the morning. 

 

\----- 

 

Eggsy spun and grinned brightly the moment he heard Harry's voice. He bowed at the waist not in the least bit self-conscious of his tomfoolery in the kitchen and then straightened. "Good morning, Guvnor. Hope your hungry!" 

Harry looked better. Like he'd actually gotten some sleep for a change and Eggsy thrilled to think that might have more been his presence than just plain exhaustion taking over. Beaming Eggsy dance-stepped over to the chair Harry had been sitting in the most and pulled it out for him. "Sit. Lemme get you fed an’ we'll head t'the airport. I got a text from Tequila sayin' he's coming t'help us get our shit t’gether. I also got a text from the contractors fhanks t' Mehrlin statin' they've started out on Saville Row. Mehrlin also texted me an' told me t'tell you, and I quote, ‘Get yerself ready for instatement, Arthur. No arguments.’" Eggsy thought he did a fair impersonation of Merlin's brogue. “Fhink he's feelin' betteh?" Eggsy was grinning hugely at Harry again. Mostly, however, as Eggsy spoke he bustled about getting the table set for two and getting them both the perfect cuppa. Finally he settled in his own chair looking happy and eager to see if he'd done well with the meal. 

 

\----- 

 

"I'll gladly have some breakfast Eggsy, thank you." Harry replied, wiping the fond smile from his face but unable to keep the warm, amused glint from dancing in his good eye.  

His worries from but a few minutes ago seemed to have vanished; apparently, Eggsy had that kind of power over him, too. He was, to put it quite simply, irresistible, dancing around as he was in one of Merlin's ridiculous aprons. Harry had gotten him that particular one  _years_ ago, since they'd had this running holiday tradition of getting each other something absolutely, outrageously ugly and bright and flashy for the house. Eggsy, looking so absolutely chipper and happy and in such good spirits while dancing around, singing, wearing such a ridiculously colourful and extravagant thing... It felt almost like a mirage, like something Harry most certainly didn't deserve.  

Then as Eggsy spoke again and gave him a list of upcoming engagements, Harry had a moment of sudden, unexpected vertigo, as one, particular detail sunk in.  

 _Arthur._  

 _He was to be instated as Arthur. Of course... Of **course**. Why hadn't he thought about it before? Why did it feel like such a dizzying thought? How had it never occurred to him that as the senior agent out of the surviving ones... Him, as Arthur. He had never thought about it... He had never desired it for himself. Chester King would've had a laugh about it, and well... perhaps, in any other situation, Harry would have, too. _ 

"Right." Harry replied absently, almost mechanically, as he sat down at the table, stiff-upper lip composure locking into place as his usual form of self-preservation and defense; to the external eye, there was no outer sign of emotional turmoil or discomfort, except for a slightly furrowed brow.  

"Quite a few matters to discuss, as I understand. Very well... Agent Tequila will be a welcome addition to our quest to rebuild Kingsman." Harry stated, feeling a bit more like himself, as opposed to the mental and emotional wreck he'd been not too many hours prior. Then, as Eggsy set the rich breakfast before them and sat down, Harry thanked him with a nod and a small smile. "This is lovely, Eggsy. Thank you." 

 

\----- 

 

A small shiver of pleased delight ran through him at Harry's simple words of praise. Good thing he'd just knocked one out a little bit ago or he might have been in a bit of a spot. It also helped quell his "youthful libido" when he caught the sudden bottoming out of Harry's better mood. Maybe no one else would have noticed but Eggsy had seen the moment mental vertigo set in, and Eggsy felt like he knew Harry well enough to guess reliably that it was the two topics Harry didn't verbally address - Merlin and instatement as Arthur - that had shook him. Well, best to let him adjust in his own time then, Eggsy reasoned and changed the topic. 

"So uh.... fhat offer t'bunk wif you still open?” he asked a little nervously. "I don'really want t'go back to mum's, much as I love her an’ Daisy." 

His heart was racing as he lifted the first mouthful of omelet to his mouth, casual as he could be when he was hanging on a ledge, praying a “yes” was waiting to meet his proverbial parkour-leaping heart. He wished he'd said yes yesterday. But he knew Harry would have chastised him for not thinking it over first and he was fast learning how to feed his favorite addiction: praise from Harry Hart. And if he wanted the opportunity to explore these feelings a little deeper he could only hope Harry gave him a positive answer, letting him find the next ledge in his rapidly changing life-landscape. Thank everything Eggsy had been using parkour as a physical outlet for his life's metaphorical upheaval nearly all his cognizant and conscientious life. It was both fitting and useful. Oh, he'd missed a landing or two here and there, both physically and metaphorically, but he’d never broken anything. If Harry said he'd changed his mind, Eggsy would be considering that his first break from his leaping without always making  _sure_  first that he had somewhere to land. It would chip his heart, Eggsy knew, but he wouldn't give up his feelings for Harry over a little metaphorical sidewalk burn. Hell no. 

\----- 

 

Harry tucked into his breakfast, choosing to focus on the here and now as opposed to following his racing mind down a vertiginous spiral into endless worry and useless concerns; he followed his usual, well-honed discipline, keeping his mental attention on what needed to be done, on what needed to be taken care of. Action required concentration, and  _action_ was what Harry excelled at. Eggsy’s delicious breakfast was a welcome way of concentrating on the here and now, and not on the haunting past, nor on the dizzying long-term future. 

“This is wonderful, Eggsy. Thank you,” Harry complimented Eggsy once more after the first few bites.  

He did truly appreciate the thoughtfulness, the care, the selflessness that came from Eggsy like it was a natural thing, like it was no big deal, like he didn’t even have to think about doing so much for others, and rarely anything for himself. It made Harry’s chest squeeze with deep, fierce love for this precious creature, all sunlight and warm, bright smiles where he was all elegant, liquid shards of darkness and haunted shadows which only grew longer and darker under the light.  

“Of course it is. I understand your need to find your own space, of course, but feel free to stay as long as you need to.” Harry replied to Eggsy’s inquiry concerning his offer from the previous night. He felt a little more like himself – crisp, sharp, gentlemanly Harry Hart who appeared in perfect control of himself, as if none of the night’s horrors had ever happened, as if he hadn’t been broken and sobbing on the floor mere hours prior. As if the idea of living with Eggsy, even for a short while, was more than a little daunting and rather worrying.  

“We can pop in this evening after we’re through with our errands. I’m not even sure what state the house is in, but as far as I’m concerned, we can move in as early as this evening, or tomorrow. I’ll leave the choice to you.” 

 

\----- 

 

Fuck but Eggsy could listen to Harry say things like that to him all day! The older man got  _this tone_  to his voice - an underlying honeyed note - whenever he offered Eggsy a compliment or praise and it was that tone that went straight to the core of him every time. That tone melted him from the inside and made him think wicked thoughts about someday being pinned beneath the gentleman with that voice dripping honey in Eggsy's ear while Harry took him apart in the most fantastic ways. 

" _Harry_ ," Eggsy stated seriously, heartfelt and hoping none of his arousal showed on his face because - earlier wank or not - he was getting hard. " _You're_  the Guvnor. I promise you won' regret lettin' me stay wif you." 

Eggsy ate a few more bites and then hummed thoughtfully. "We should move soon yeah? S'not like we're not half-packed as it is. Maybe we can go clofhes shoppin' tomorrow once we're settled. We ain' gonna ‘ave time today. Mehrlin's flight is due t'arrive at five fhis evenin'. Guess Tequila's his escort." 

Having devoured all of his breakfast, Eggsy leaned back with a satisfied sigh. He'd outdone himself this time. Of course he'd wanted to impress Harry so he had put extra care in and with Harry's obvious enthusiasm he considered breakfast a success. 

"The texts I've been gettin' all morning said fhat Tequila will be stayin' in one of the local hotels. Might be nice t'see'im. I owe'im a rematch." Eggsy sniffed pretending to act tough for the humor of it. Tequila had beaten him fair and square, but Eggsy couldn't help but wonder if Tequila would have been so lucky if Eggsy hadn't still been mildly hungover and still rocked by the losses of Harry, Roxy, JB and his mate Brandon. 

 

\----- 

 

"Nonsense, Eggsy. I'll be glad to have you over, really. Not to mention, my family house is dreadfully bleak." Harry commented in his trademark nonchalant, almost aloof tone of voice, before eating another few bites of his breakfast. He made a mental note to teach Eggsy the finer aspects and techniques of cooking, seeing as he clearly had a knack for it -- something which Harry wasn't even all that surprised about. The lad seemed to have a natural predisposition for pretty much anything he set his mind to, and there was a part of Harry's mind which very much wanted to linger on that dangerously wonderful thought, before he stopped himself at once, worried about where that line of thought could lead him to.  

It was getting harder and harder by the minute to control such unexpected unbidden thoughts, to keep a perfectly neutral expression despite the war going on between his higher and lower instincts, all of which was made even harder by these utterly splendid moments of domesticity. Considering that Eggsy seemed to be quite happy to pretend that nothing had happened the previous night, and this was just nothing more than a very,  _very_ enjoyable morning between the two of them, then who was Harry to argue.  

"Yes, that does seem like the preferable option. We will figure out a more suitable accommodation for agent Tequila as well, as soon as Merlin has settled at the hospital." Harry pondered, drumming his fingers onto his teacup before arching one eyebrow over his good eye. "A rematch?" 

 

\----- 

 

With a small huff of laughter at his own expense, Eggsy rocked back onto two chair legs his right fingers on the table top keeping him balanced while he curled his left arm behind his head a moment. "He kicked my ass. Mehrlin's too. We were bofh pretty hungover.... Kingsman had just-" Eggsy dropped the front legs of the kitchen chair to the floor again and pulled his glasses off rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He shot me wifh my own fuckin' tranq dart. A  _fuckin' cocky hick_. Shoulda realized he was too damn sharp." 

Slipping his glasses back on, Eggsy straightened up and got to his feet, scooping up their dirty dishes since they were both now done eating. He was quick to wash them and set them aside to dry. Turning back to Harry as he dried his hands, the younger agent kept his gaze down. "Fuckin'  _embarrassin'_  fhat." 

It was all of a sudden that Eggsy realized he felt shame, telling Harry Tequila had kicked his ass all over the floor. He almost felt like he'd let the man down. It hurt more than he'd expected to feel like this, and as he leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest and one ankle over the other, Eggsy realized.... there was a dose of fear in that embarrassment. Fear that Harry would start to find him.... wanting. 

"I won’t be making that mistake again, Harry." Eggsy turned his words crisp and clean, hoping to cut down even the beginning of any disapproval. Verdant eyes lifted to lock with the honey brown of Harry's gaze. Maybe Harry would choose to focus on Eggsy's perfect impersonation of a posh British aristocrat (secretly his best impersonation of Harry himself) and overlook the fact that Eggsy had been so thoroughly bested, excuses or not. "Next time Agent Tequila and I face off... he'll realize he's bitten off more than he can chew. Even if it is a friendly little practice fight. Can't have our American cousin thinking he's got one up on us now can we?" 

   
\----- 

 

Harry listened attentively to what Eggsy was telling him, refraining from commenting until he had heard the entirety of what the younger agent wanted to tell him. Gentlemen never interrupted others when speaking, and all that – that, and Eggsy still seemed rather sore about this particular topic. 

As he listened, Harry found himself reading Eggsy’s body language, his gesticulations, his tone of voice. The younger spy was like an open book to Harry, be it because of his own abilities at reading other people, because of Eggsy’s almost brutally honest demeanor, or because of how well he knew Eggsy by then. It was easy to notice Eggsy’s smiling, bright, dancing attitude disappearing gradually, as he recounted his first run in with agent Tequila. Harry guessed that Eggsy and Merlin's first introduction to Statesman had not been on the best and easiest of terms. There was still so much he didn’t know... so many black holes of absence and time to be filled. He could only hope to do right by Eggsy and manage to repay him for that year of unwanted, unplanned absence. Not just that, but based on what Merlin had told him here and there, with barely more than a few bitten-off words and heavy looks, Eggsy had not exactly taken his supposed death very well at all. He’d spoken about “how much the lad had  _mourned_ him”, and Harry knew he had that to make up for, as well. 

“Eggsy, to paraphrase what a great writer once said, we all fail — at least, the best of us do.” Harry commented, offering a small, warm smile. “You were far from your best shape, if I understood correctly, both physically and mentally. No matter how much an agent should always be able to detach themselves from personal, emotional matters, you were on a mission of a personal nature, and if you hadn’t been in that mindset and if you hadn’t achieved what you achieved, I wouldn’t be here. I hope you always remember that.” Harry continued, keeping his voice crisp and calm and professional, wanting Eggsy to feel that he wasn’t saying those things mainly as his friend and someone who cared about him dearly, but rather as a fellow agent, and one that — like all human beings — had failed. Countless times, too. Eggsy’s was hardly a failure.  

“I think some training is in order for both of us, and until we have our athletic facilities reinstated at the new Avalon, we will have to make do with what we have, or simply figure out something else. If those heavy-accented, poorly dressed chaps think they are capable of besting us at anything, then we will simply have to show them how wrong they are. Politely, of course.”  

With that, Harry got up, gathered the last few things on the table to put them away in the kitchen, giving Eggsy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he passed. “Let’s pack our meagre belongings and be on our way. We have a very full day ahead of us.” 

 

\----- 

 

It should concern him, probably even a lot, how immediately Eggsy felt his spirits lift with Harry's words. Like warm caramel, the thought of Harry's faith in him remaining intact and Harry's encouraging support made Eggsy go a little gooey. A tiny thrill zipped through him at Harry's touch and Eggsy had to quell the urge to move into Harry's space under his arm at that squeezing touch. The moment felt charged but just as Harry started to pull away, Eggsy's glasses flashed a call. He reached up and touched the frame, straightening. 

"Galahad," he said softly. After a moment he stated, "We'll be there. See you in there." 

Relaxing a little he looked to Harry. "Mehrlin's facilitated his own early return," Eggsy told him with a smirk. "Let's pack an’ head out. Meet'im fhere. Loohks lihke we'll have t’plan on turnin' in for the night at the new place yeah?" 

Eggsy was fairly vibrating with enthusiasm. Things were coming back together in his life. The gaping wound that had started with Harry's almost death and only ripped open further with Eggsy's loss of Kingsman, JB, Roxy, and his mate Brandon.... was finally starting to knit back together. He couldn't wait to see Merlin! He was pretty sure Harry felt the same. 

   
 

\----- 

 

The moment Eggsy got the call through his Kingsman glasses (and hearing  _that_  name being spoken in Eggsy’s voice still sent a thrill through Harry), Harry looked over his shoulder from where he was putting away the last few things. He felt a small twist of anticipation and a bright, fierce need to see his best friend. He needed to see with his own eyes that he was awake and talking and aware of his surroundings, whereas the last time he'd seen him in person, back at the Statesmen facilities, he'd still been drugged off his arse and mumbling nonsense whenever he even managed to be awake at all. He needed to see Hamish at  _home,_ where he belonged, and home meant London to both of them, and it had meant that for more years than they could count. 

“That sounds like our Merlin," Harry commented with fond exasperation and a small, cheeky smile. "Very well. I will have a cab pick us up in fifteen minutes. Do you need more time than that?" Harry asked, not even stopping to think about what would await them, later, at his family townhouse. He could only hope Eggsy found it acceptable enough not to want to escape as soon as he set foot inside of it. Right now, however, he just wanted to see Hamish, wanted to take him over to the hospital, too see that he was doing well... Or better, at least. 

 

\----- 

 

"Nah. M'already packed. Let's get gone," Eggsy stated more than happy to be in their way. And on their way they were. Quite quickly. It wasn't even long before they were directed onto the tarmac and towards the private jet. Tequila, grinning hugely, met them at the base of the ramp Merlin would be wheeled down. Eggsy grinned back and stepped up to him offering a fist bump which Tequila readily returned. 

"Brought along a pardner," Tequila sniffed and swiped his hat off his head to rub a thumb over his brow. Then he jerked a thumb at the other cowboy steolling up them at an easy amble. "Agent Bourbon. He's been wantin' to meet ya, Galahad. I meant  _Junior,_ not Senior. No offense," he drawled tipping his hat to Harry as hebput it back on his head. 

“Alrigh' yeah. Afteh I see Mehrlin.” Eggsy looked to the plane, sparing only a glance for the approaching, new Statesman agent. He was only interested in one thing. "What's takin' him so long?" Eggsy murmured, then, grinning, called up into the plane, "Oi, Mehrlin! Shake your ass! Ain't seen your ugly mug in way too long, mate!" 

 

\----- 

 

Harry stepped closer to the private Statesman jet and, as its first passengers disembarked, he realized once more just how grateful he was for Eggsy's presence right there, by his side.  

He hadn't seen Merlin in over three days, but having Eggsy at his side during that time had been a constant mental anchor that he’d unknowingly, subconsciously relied upon. During those three days, he had done little else but think about his best friend’s rather dramatic health situation, about how Hamish was far from him, far away from his “family” (Harry and Eggsy, pretty much), from his home... He could still remember every hour spent by the Scotsman's bedside, waiting for him to give a sign that he was okay, if only so that Harry wouldn't have to re-listen to  _Take me home country road_ replaying over and over in his head as Hamish had last sung it, the sound of his voice overlapping sickeningly with the deafening sound of the explosion.  

Taking a deep, steadying breath through his nose, Harry straightened himself and drummed his fingers on the wooden handle of the Rainmaker, a parting gift (one of many) from Statesman after the other one had been badly damaged during their mission at Poppyland.  

Harry took in agent Tequila, with another agent by his side. Tequila barely even acknowledged Harry, as he introduced his partner (agent Bourbon, it seemed) to Eggsy.  

"None taken." Harry replied curtly, offering the briefest of nods. "Pleasure to meet you, agent." He said anyway, because he was still a gentleman, perhaps even more so when the other people around him showed signs of being ill-mannered and disrespectful.  

Just as Eggsy moved over to call out towards the plane, there was a movement from the back of the ramp and then, the first signs of a wheelchair being pushed down. There he was, in all his bald, shiny-headed glory,  _Merlin_. He looked more than a little worse for wear, his face still rather ashen and pallid, his cheeks gaunt and his eyes tired and heavy with pain and exhaustion. But all in all, his gaze looked present, lucid, and it immediately flitted over to Harry and Eggsy. 

"Galahads! Fancy seein' the two of you here." He said, aiming for chipper but missing by a mile -- more because of the evident lack of strength in his voice. "I see a few days back at home hasn't done you any favours, ey, lad?" Merlin said as he was carefully wheeled down, keeping his eyes on Eggsy, while a smile betrayed his happiness at seeing them, though he only briefly dared to meet Harry's gaze for a few meaningful moments.  

Harry himself wanted to give Eggsy the chance to say hello before he did so himself; their inherent Britishness implicitly forbade them to share a hug in public, though perhaps they would share one, later on, in the privacy of Merlin's hospital room. 

 

\----- 

 

Harry's grace under pressure prodded Eggsy's own newly minted manners, causing him  to backtrack from his earlier bit of brush off and to offer Agent Bourbon, who had only just completely settled in a relaxed stance at Tequila's side, a distracted, “Sorry. Nice t’meet you, Agent..." But Merlin stole all of the youth's attention the moment he came into view. 

"Mehrlin! You  _fucking wanker_!" Eggsy moved to greet the wheelchair bound man in three quick, long strides bending easily forward to hug the man without an ounce of hesitation that it was less than British to do so. 

Merlin hugged him back - never one to be rude and more than happy to indulge the lad in Eggsy's “less than posh” (as the boy would say) mannerisms - and muttered, "It's good to see you made it out alive too, ye cheeky brat." 

Eggsy was fighting tears as hard as he could now, and he was insanely thankful his fellow Kingsman wouldn't likely say a word about it and that the Statesman were unlikely to even notice. "Don't you eveh do somefhing fhat fuckin' stupid again! You hear me?!" 

Eggsy would likely never hold such compunctions over things like enthusiastic greetings, Kingsman or not. He hugged Merlin tight about the shoulders for a few moments then slowly pulled back. "It's reahlly good t'see you, mate." 

Merlin nodded almost gravely he was so serious about offering Eggsy both acknowledgement and a squeeze to his bicep and elbow. “You too, lad.” 

With a final squeeze and a hearty pat to Merlin's right shoulder, Eggsy finally stood back a couple steps only to find himself flanked by Tequila on his right and Bourbon on his left. He found immediately that he distinctly disliked having someone - anyone - standing between himself and Harry's left (vulnerable) side, but he didn't want to expose that to these two foreigners so he maintained where he'd come to stand and waited for the opportunity to slide back over. Harry was fine, he told himself, Eggsy's need to be right there didn't mean Harry couldn't take care of himself. Eggsy's clingy, needy mentality was honestly probably a bit much. Harry wouldn't want to be... well, smothered. He just had to keep reminding himself of that so he wouldn't cross any lines. Merlin was turning to Harry while Eggsy quelled his urge to play guard dog. 

"Harry," the Scot greeted warmly (almost solemnly) and offered the taller man a hand. 

 

\----- 

 

Harry observed the exchange between Eggsy and Merlin with a tight, hot knot in his throat, but he was very careful not to let a single ounce of emotion seep through the cracks in his steely composure.  

To see Merlin  _there_ , and not just on a frustratingly small, impersonal phone screen, via their many Skype and Facetime calls since Harry had left the Statesman facilities to head back to the UK -- to see him  _there,_ alive and breathing... It meant more than words could even begin to express.  

Swallowing against the thick, tight feeling, the gentleman spy simply held on a little tighter to the wooden handle of his Rainmaker and discreetly remained to the side, feeling Tequila's presence on his blind side but not saying a single word about it. There was nothing wrong with it, after all -- it was simply quite odd, not to have Eggsy there, he realized. Having Eggsy on his side, on his  _blind_ side, he mused, had become almost second nature to him ever since he'd "woken up" from the amnesia. He'd never truly noticed, let alone appreciated what the younger agent seemed to do almost thoughtlessly, like it was second nature to him. Thinking about it, in that moment, Harry added that precious bit of generosity to the already long list of everything that Eggsy did for him, often without even thinking about it. 

When the greetings were over between Merlin and Eggsy, Harry met Merlin's gaze and felt something settle inside of him: a deeply familiar feeling, one he’d come to know for over a few decades now, one he felt whenever the two of them exchanged a look of deep understanding between them. No words were exchanged, as they both took a deep, slow breath and the same gratitude washed over them -- gratitude for having made it through another mission, another ordeal, another life-threatening situation, together. Both of them were addicted to their work, their jobs (Harry's adrenaline addiction was hardly a novelty), but they were nonetheless immensely grateful to still find one another at the end of the tunnel, at the end of it all.  

With a nod and a warm, affectionate smile, Harry stepped forward and shook Merlin's hand in a firm, strong hold. 

"Merlin. I'm glad you're back." Harry said, as he covered their joint hands with his other one and gave a tight, meaningful squeeze, the only display of affection he would allow himself publicly. Merlin only nodded once, firmly, the smallest hint of a smile appearing on his worn out face. 

“Alright, gents. Ready to roll?" Tequila asked, interrupting the moment, just as an ambulance and two sleek black cars pulled over near them. 

 

\----- 

 

With a huge grin, Eggsy leaned forward and patted Merlin's shoulder. "We'll see you there, yeah?" 

Merlin clasped Eggsy's hand to his shoulder while he held Harry's gaze with a steady expression. It was clear that he was down but in no way beaten. "See you there, boys."  

Eggs nodded and looked to Harry grinning, happy as hell to be in the living presence of both of these men. The attendant wheeling Merlin turned him toward the ambulance heading away. Turning from Harry to their American guests, Eggsy jerked a thumb at the waiting black vehicles. "Harry 'n' me'll meet you blokes at the hospital yeah?" 

Bourbon grinned easy and slow as molasses. "Sure thing, Galahad. Let's get your Quartermaster settled so y'all can show us American boys some British hospitality. Know of any good pubs round these parts?" 

Eggsy's smile dipped into a polite facsimile of its usual sunshine. "Nah, bruv. Not t'night. Got plans." 

Like hell Eggsy was going to play host to a couple southern colonists when he could be spending time with Harry! He had his priorities straight, thanks so much! Not that Eggsy didn't enjoy a good pub crawl, but right now his focus had to be on Kingsman, getting Merlin back on his feet, and helping Harry, any and every way he could. Already Eggsy was slipping out from between the cowboys and gravitating towards Harry. 

"Sure thing, pardner. We'll plan it for another night. No problem," Bourbon drawled. 

Tequila smirked with a soft snort, adding, "When we get the ball rolling on this whole joint project we can go on out and have a celebratory drink and a good time." 

Eggsy lifted a shoulder. "Sure. Some ofher time works fine," he said agreeably and glanced over just to lay eyes on Harry again. Something about the pair of Statesman had him wanting to be closer to Harry, as ridiculous as that was. Harry was fine. He was fine. Hell, even Merlin was fine. With a quick, almost distracted parting nod he turned away complete and headed straight for Harry. 

   
 

\----- 

 

Harry and Eggsy parted ways momentarily as Harry followed Merlin over to the ambulance, wanting to see him off at least until there, seeing as he wouldn't be allowed on the ambulance itself.  

He felt the unmistakable need to have a nice talk with his best friend, a tête-à-tête with the Scotsman like they had often had when they needed to sort things out, when they had matters weighing on their chests, or quite simply when they had needed the other’s presence and support. They had both been solitary men in their lives, mainly due to their jobs, but they had never truly been alone, thanks to what they meant to each other. Harry loved Merlin like a brother, and if it hadn't been for his iron control over himself, the sheer thought of having been a hair's breadth away from losing Merlin would have crushed him completely.  

Just as he was about to say something, to truly express how happy he was that Merlin was back and alive, Harry was interrupted by the paramedics carefully lifting Merlin onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Still, when Merlin met his gaze, it was meaningful and heavy with unspoken words. 

"We'll have time to talk, Harry. We  _will_ talk. I'll see ye there." 

Harry nodded solemnly in wordless response to those words then stepped back, watching as they closed off the back of the vehicle. His Rainmaker was still between both his hands, firmly planted in front of him as if he needed the physical support (a rather laughable notion). Still, when he heard the last of the chatter die down between Eggsy and the two American agents not too far from him, followed by the sound of footsteps, Harry found himself exhaling softly in relief at the presence of the younger agent on his blind side, steadfast as ever.  

"Shall we, Eggsy?" Harry tersely asked, after a few moments of silence. 

 

\----- 

 

"I'm wif you, Harry," Eggsy stated softly in response. Harry looked impeccable, but Eggsy could just see the tension in him almost like a double image on poorly developed film: the bespoke gentleman, unflappable and unyielding... and the heartsick man who feared to lose what little he had left. 

Eggsy walked close at Harry's left side, their arms actually brushing just a bit as they walked to the waiting car. Tequila and Bourbon had already crawled into the back of their car so Eggsy stepped up and opened the door for Harry without pause. Once Harry had settled inside, Eggsy slid in beside him, pulling the door closed. He shifted closer to Harry from there, needing to feel the man's arm along his in the smallish back seat. He put the black divider up so their driver wouldn't be able to eavesdrop, then twisted to face Harry. 

In the second before he spoke, Eggsy found himself momentarily captivated by Harry's handsomeness, his stateliness and poise, but what really got his throat tight with an almost overwhelming urge to possess this man as  _his,_  damn it, was the emotion laying just under the surface. Bold as ever Eggsy, compelled, reached up and gripped the back of Harry's neck, his arm laying along Harry's shoulder as he half turned to the man. He didn't think, just reacted. Harry was torn up all over again and Eggsy fucking hated seeing his Harry so dashed on the rocks. He wanted to pull Harry into a hug and to rest his cheek against the other man's forehead. He wanted to so badly and he could even remember the ghost of how it felt from the night before. It was bliss and torture at once, a bit bittersweet in that his whole world sat beside him and he couldn't even hold the man in his arms without thinking of a million reasons not to try it. 

"Mehrlin's okay yeah? You, me. We're good. Reahlly good. We can sort the rest a bit at a time. No worries." 

 

\----- 

 

Harry followed Eggsy to the car without saying a word, as if what the younger agent had said had made something already tight in his chest wind up even tighter, almost cutting off his breathing. But he needed to soldier on, to keep on going, keep on doing what he had to do, until the very end. Stiff upper lip and all that British nonsense that his father had managed to ingrain so very deep into his bones after all were of no other use than to hold him together.  

Slipping into the car, Harry thanked Eggsy for having opened the door for him, and once the car sped off, he inevitably got lost in the mile-long list of things he would need to do.  

He knew what Merlin wanted to talk to him about, and seeing what Eggsy had already told him, he was mentally preparing himself for the sheer magnitude of the discussion he knew was coming. If his possible instatement as Arthur were not already enough, the fact that he’d practically gone MIA also entailed a number of things: the Lazarus protocol first and foremost, but also mandatory therapy, mandatory physical evaluation, which was sure to be followed by equally mandatory physical therapy given the state of things... Yet, all of it still seemed futile and of little consequence, compared to his concern for Hamish, his concern for his wellbeing, his concern for Eggsy, for having to rebuild Kingsman...  

Harry’s concern-burdened thoughts were interrupted by a movement which he detected, more than saw. He felt the gentle weight of an arm on his shoulder and then the warmth of a hand on the back of his neck. It took his mind an extra moment to understand, as his gaze remained fixed and staring straight ahead, needing something to concentrate on that wasn’t the warm, intimate, wonderful weight of Eggsy’s hand on the back of his neck. But then, as Eggsy spoke, Harry took a short, fortifying breath as if to calm his suddenly thrumming heart, and he managed to nod, just once, firmly. 

“You’re right.” He agreed, before lowering his gaze for a few moments, willing his foolish, sad old body to stop reacting in such a laughable manner, worthy of little more than teenage-level hormones. Fingers on his neck were apparently all it took to turn him into a smitten little puddle, the moronic old sod that he was.  

“Thank you, Eggsy.” He added, softly, turning his head until he could meet his gaze with his own good eye. 

 

\----- 

 

That honey-whiskey eye met Eggsy's own green glass gaze and the younger man smiled gently. "It's you an’ me an’ Mehrlin. We're fuckin' unstoppable. Everyfhing's gonna be aces, Harry. Kingsman will be up an' runnin' again in no time. Betteh fhan evah! Cuz you'll be a fuckin' fantastic Arthur! Swear down!" 

The hand on the back of Harry's neck felt warm and Eggsy couldn't remember being this happy to just touch someone skin to skin. They were close together in the back of the car and it gave Eggsy a sense of Harry's height, his lankiness and broad shoulders to be this close. Fuck. Even with everything else going on Eggsy still couldn't suppress the urge, the desire to turn completely and swing a leg over Harry's lap, straddling his thighs. For a brief moment he let the fantasy image play out in his mind. How he would cradle Harry's jaw with one hand and slip his other around to card into the hair at the back of Harry's head. How he'd lean in slow and brush their mouths together. How Harry would pull him close, guide the kiss deeper... 

Forcibly, Eggsy reined in his overactive libido and wandering thoughts. Here was Harry, devastated and holding it together by a thread and here was Eggsy, pleb perv, fantasizing about making it with the man in the backseat. Fuck, he was a right fucking tosser. Damn his hormones and his probably inappropriate infatuation with Harry Hart. 

With one last squeeze, Eggsy's pulled his hand away and settled back. "You don'ave t'ide from me, Harry. Fhis whole fhing sucks... 'cept where it  _don't_ , lihke you an’ Mehrlin bofh being  _alive_." 

 

\----- 

 

Harry held Eggsy's gaze for a few long moments, the luscious, liquid Persian green of those irises meeting the honey-brown one of his own, heavy with weight and meaning and the solid, unyielding bond made of trust and support and the strength they found in the other. Then Eggsy's smile gave way to those half-reassuring, half-flattering words, and Harry averted his gaze in a sudden and rather uncharacteristic display of reticence, his jaw tightening as he swallowed against the now less stifling knot in his throat.  

"Yes. Yes, of course." He agreed, nodding minutely and maintaining that firm, steely propriety that worked both ways, as it always had, in Harry's life -- it was both for others to see and for himself, as his a way of keeping himself together, of pushing through and soldiering on no matter how much things went south.  

Yet, as Eggsy's hand pulled back, Harry realized he'd been a right tit, having pulled away rather brusquely from Eggsy while the younger agent had done nothing but try to show him his support, his affection, his smiles and warm, fierce optimism where Harry could only see the shadows and the endless possibilities of things going even worse than they already had.  

Harry felt his chest give a short, burning squeeze once more when he felt that hand with its warm, reassuring weight disappear from the back of his neck.  _I'm not hiding from you, Eggsy,_ Harry would have wanted to say, but he knew it to be patently untrue. Could he be blamed, though? It was simply his way of being, his way of keeping himself together... It was second, or rather, first nature to him. He didn't have to fake it, it was simply who he was. Did that still count as hiding? 

 

\----- 

 

Eggsy left it at that. Harry was who he was, but at least Eggsy had put that out into the universe and maybe Harry would follow it back someday. Eggsy held no bad feelings towards his mentor for keeping that stiff upper lip anyway. The man was the picture of composure at nearly all times. Eggsy just wished he was in under Harry's guard enough to see him let that guard down. Probably the only way to experience that would be to be shagging the man. Eggsy had to guess Harry was a fucking god between the sheets. He couldn't be anything but. And knowing Harry preferred men?  _Fuck_ , that just made it more appealing for Eggsy and his fantasy life. 

The car rolled to a stop at the front of the hospital, Merlin having been taken to the ambulance entrance. The driver knocked politely on the glass so Eggsy put the dividing window down. 

"Gentlemen. Merlin will be settled and you'll be summoned to visit him from the second floor east waiting room. Your luggage may stay in the trunk. I'll be around again at 8:30 tonight to pick you up at the end of visiting hours." 

"Thank you," Eggsy said light and posh. He then slipped out and waited for Harry to do the same, holding the door wide for him. 

 

\----- 

 

"Very well. Thank you" Harry said after Eggsy had done the same, slipping out after him and nodding his thanks for the door. 

He felt that same, by now familiar spark of pride that he felt every time Eggsy would do something particularly well-mannered, or whenever his more gentlemanly self would shine through; it had clearly become something of an acquired thing over time, such that it no longer looked like Eggsy was making an active effort, but rather, it had bled into his everyday motions.  

For Harry, to see that bit of refinement in someone already so full of virtues, merits and good qualities... Well, it was enough to make Harry wonder if his bone-deep fondness, admiration and love for the younger man would ever cease from its near-constant growth in both intensity and depth. To add all of that to the fact that he was – to put it quite simply – absolutely gorgeous in an achingly self-evident, obvious way (yet never flaunted, never boasted) only made it harder for Harry: he often had to remind himself to take both a metaphorical and factual step back, and it was made all the more painful and hard to execute, the more he found he adored Eggsy.  

As they made their way into the hospital, they were escorted to Merlin's private room, outside of which agents Tequila and Bourbon were already waiting.  

"Heya, gents. Merlin's bein' checked out" Tequila greeted them, nodding towards the closed door. "Doc said we could go in, soon as he's finished. Want me to go get ya somethin'?" 

Bourbon jumped in, offering Eggsy a wide, open smile before suggestively adding, "Maybe some iced tea, a coffee or somethin'?" to which Harry went slightly rigid, jaw tightening imperceptibly, but said nothing. 

 

\----- 

 

Harry was tense. That much Eggsy could tell, but the source of that tension could be anything from being in a hospital to Harry's instincts warning him against Agent Bourbon. Wary, Eggsy shook his head. "Nah, bruv. Fhanks but m'good." 

Tequila raised his eyebrow at Bourbon, his expression silently communicative. Eggsy's eyes narrowed slightly as he wondered what was being said between the two but just then a nurse stepped out cutting off further interaction for the moment. "Is one of you Harry Hart?" 

Eggsy grinned and pointed to Harry. "See ya in a minute," he told the older Kingsman. 

The nurse motioned Harry through the door with a warm smile. "He's asking for you." 

 

\----- 

 

Harry silently observed the interaction between Eggsy and Bourbon, then Bourbon and Tequila, taking in the tiny little cues, details in their body language, and it all painted a rather interesting, if slightly irksome picture. Agent Bourbon was clearly interested in Eggsy and rationally speaking, the last person on G.d's green earth who could blame him for that was Harry himself.  

Just then, a nurse stepped out of the door to Merlin's private room and asked for him, to which Eggsy replied with a wide, genial smile, like the proverbial cat that got the cream. Both of them knew what one of the main topics would end up being during his little talk with Merlin, and Harry could at least hope that his best friend hadn't cottoned on to the other rather imposing and ever-present elephant in Harry's metaphorical room. 

"Yes, very well. Thank you." He said, nodding, casting one last glance at Eggsy. Those bright, warm verdigris eyes met his, silently offering his support. One last nod, and Harry was through the threshold, making brief introductions with the Doctor, who briefly explained the situation and what was to be expected in the upcoming days. Merlin would need a significant time to recover, of course, and prosthetics were going to be discussed only once they were sure his body could handle the added stress and complication. Judging by the look in Merlin’s eye, Harry knew Hamish would fight tooth and nail to have cutting-edge technology prosthetics installed, if it was the last thing he did. Knowing him, Harry could also guess Merlin would go as far as working on the project himself. 

To Harry, it was an immense relief to hear that his best friend was out of life-threatening danger. That he would recover. That he would still be around. Some part of him, no matter how much he had tried to squash it and crush it and keep it in the back of his mind, had always feared he would have to go through the worst: that Merlin had not made it. That Merlin no longer was. They had believed that, for the little time it took to dismantle Poppyland, until they’d found out that Statesman’s blessedly efficient medical crew had stepped in soon after the explosion, and had managed to make  _all_ the difference during those crucial moments. 

Once the doctor left, it was just them, alone. Hamish and Harry, once more. Harry would have almost laughed at the sheer number of times they'd found each other in a similar situation, only usually it was him on a hospital bed, covered with IVs and his face almost as pale as the starched white bed sheets. Merlin had usually been the one at his bedside, bitching and moaning about Harry having to play the overdramatic queen over and over again with each injury and battle scar.  

Except this time,  _everything_ was different. This time, they were both carrying wounds and missing parts of their body that no amount of laughter and easy companionship would allow to forget completely.  

"How are you feeling?" Harry gently asked, peeling off layers upon layers of strict composure and unwavering self-discipline, in lieu of which a bone-deep tiredness began to seep into his expression and in his posture as he finally sat down, having dragged the closest chair near the hospital bed. 

 

\----- 

 

"Tired," Hamish admitted. "But very grateful to our actual tailors. Our suits aren't bomb proof, but they're apparently a wee bit mine proof. Thank fuck for that." 

Hamish offered Harry a small smile. Really he just wanted to go home and sleep, but there were matters to attend to now that they were all out of immediate danger and the world was safe again. Harry looked as tired as he felt. 

"How are you, Harry?" In this moment he was asking as family. Once they'd sorted through this personal part, it would be Merlin and the soon-to-be Arthur until they'd gotten things sorted. 

 

\----- 

 

Harry smiled tiredly, nodding to himself as he averted his gaze, before rubbing his good eye from underneath the Kingsman glasses and taking a deep, silent breath.  

"Leodegrance does know his way around a suit, yes." Harry agreed with a soft chuckle, remembering the elderly man in charge of the technology behind the suits and, well, the suits in general.  

"Your own additions were hardly of no import, Hamish.  _Reddite quae sunt Caesaris Caesari_ , and all that nonsense..." Harry finished off with a flourish, moving a hand about in mid-air, almost dismissively, as if to trail off during a meaningless train of thought.  _Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar._  

Then, when Hamish spoke again, Harry lifted his gaze and met the tech wizard's no-nonsense look, straightforward and piercing as it was wont to be. Just as he was about to reply with his standard, emptily positive reply, Merlin's gaze turned into a silently warning one. The man knew him so well, it was almost unnerving.  

With a sigh and a small huff of laughter, Harry averted his gaze for a moment as he actually thought about his reply. "Quite out of sorts, to be perfectly honest with you. For a number of different reasons, I suppose." 

 

\----- 

 

"I'd imagine so." Hamish acknowledged and reached out a hand. He expected Harry wouldn't hesitate to take it for a brief squeeze for mutual comfort and when that was done, Hamish added with a sly expression, "Your boy's quite the artist on the battlefield. You made a good choice." Hamish paused just long enough that his next words would have those previous hold even more weight than initially implied. "And he's a damn fine Kingsman too." 

 

Hamish knew, from the first time he had caught Harry watching Eggsy's first test on replay that it wasn't just critique of performance on Harry's mind. Eggsy Unwin was a beautiful young man with a heart of pure gold and a soul to match. Harry deserved someone that lovely in his life and Hamish had vowed to encourage the thing between Harry and Eggsy as much as he dared, but as usual in their line of work... life got in the way. Perhaps this downtime would help to rectify more than Kingsman. 

 

\----- 

 

Harry didn't hesitate to squeeze Merlin's hand back, covering both their hands with his other one, much like he'd done earlier on just as he'd been wheeled out of the private jet, only this time it was more of a lingering, openly affectionate gesture.  

"I have very little to do with who he's become, Hamish. You've been more of a mentor and a support for him that I have been." Harry replied honestly, his voice gone quiet and remorseful. 

He was happy of course that Eggsy had had someone like Hamish to guide him through his first year as a Kingsman agent; he was  _more_ than proud of who Eggsy had become, but really, he had nothing to do with it. He had only plucked Eggsy from his madly swerving life and had given him a bit of a push in the right direction (admittedly, towards an equally mad, if much more dangerous life, but a life nonetheless, one of economic stability and an easier pursuit for happiness). Harry had but recognized the rough diamond hiding beneath the brazen attitude and the horrifyingly flashy attire, but that was just about the extent of his merits. He was left bitter and sad by the knowledge that he hadn't been there for Eggsy, that he had not been the mentor that Eggsy had needed and deserved. He only had his present and what little future he still had left to give him. He wondered if that was enough -- he wondered if he could sit by and watch that precious creature's life unfold and simply be happy for him, rather than feel that small tinge of sadness that he couldn't really, truly be a part of it, that he couldn't take the place he truly wanted -- the one next to Eggsy.  

"That he is, yes. And I have you to thank, Hamish. You've done so much for him." Harry said, meeting his best friend's gaze once more and feeling himself shrink a little underneath it. Should he really be surprised that Merlin was probably reading so much more into his words? 

 

\----- 

 

Hamish snorted his Scottish brogue a little thicker thanks to his fatigue and droll attitude. "You wanna know how I "guided" him, Harry?" He barely paused before stating, "I let him guide himself by letting him have access to whatever of your file I could while praising him in your name. The boy's a menace to evil because he wanted to live up your expectations. Eggsy needs no further encouragement than 'Harry would've been proud of you, Eggsy' and he's chomping at the bit for his next assignment. I kept them small at first of course. Let him get his feet under him, but then all this happened.  _You_  happened. Now the evils of the world had better find a deep dark cave and stay there." Hamish actually chuckled and let his head fall back onto the pillows behind him. "As if we should be so lucky..." 

 

Hamish sighed. "I dunnae feel the least bit wrong in saying that that boy nigh worships you. But I know you'll find a million reasons to pass it off, so... let's get on with business rather than chase our tails. Shall we?" 

 

\----- 

 

Merlin's words were rather dizzying to listen to. It was hardly as if his best friend were saying something completely unfamiliar, absurd, or even far-fetched. Yet the fact that Harry could listen to all of that and actually believe it to be true... It was almost too much. Some part of him knew that Merlin was being objective, being one of the most direct, dispassionate and brutally honest people Harry knew. But to hear such things said about Eggsy, about just how much Eggsy  _cared_ , about  _how_ Eggsy saw him, even after what he'd done in Kentucky... It made the knot in Harry's throat return with a vengeance, tight and hot and threatening to make him feel breathless.  

"There's nothing  _to_ 'pass off', Hamish. It’s rather simple, really, if you consider the matter. Eggsy deserves nothing less than the best -- he deserves happiness. Therefore, I'm not even sure what you're implying here." Harry evenly replied, feeling suddenly exhausted from...  _everything_.  

With a sigh, he nodded, agreeing on letting the matter go, though, knowing Hamish, he suspected the truce was only temporary. "Of course. I'm listening." He said, pulling himself back together, once more former Agent Galahad, Kingsman's top agent, and gentleman surperspy. 

 

\----- 

 

Merlin nodded once and sat up a little straighter, losing the brogue almost completely. "As you know there are three protocols at play here. The rest of the Doomsday Protocol regarding reinstatement of Kingsman personnel post-tragedy which requires each and every still active agent to undergo psychiatric evaluations and physical testing. The Lazarus Protocol regarding the reinstatement of agents thought killed in combat but ended up MIA and the requirement of those agents to undergo psychiatric and physical evaluations as well as the subsequent necessary therapies. And the Throne Protocol wherein the most senior, viable Kingsman agent takes command and the title of Arthur." 

There was a moment of pause before Merlin continued, "In other words, the three of us will be undergoing evaluations by the physio and psych teams from the German Branch and we will all have to be cleared for active duty before fully returning to our duties." 

Merlin's eyes were searching as he studied Harry's face for any signs of refusal. 

 

\----- 

 

Harry listened attentively as Merlin listed each and every one of the Protocols that had to be activated or that had already been set in motion. He already knew about everything of course, but hearing it in such clear terms, by none other than Merlin himself, all business and duty despite his rather clearly poor physical state and the fact that he was in a bloody hospital, missing a limb -- it made everything seem  _real_ , all of a sudden, and it really hit Harry like no other moment before.  

 _He was going to be Arthur_.  

Which meant that he was going to have to be psychologically evaluated, and they would  _know,_ they would no doubt see and understand what he'd done, and just how much it still haunted him. How could anyone in their right mind reinstate someone like him and deem him suitable for active duty? Let alone allow him to guide Kingsman from here on out, until death do him part from his role or until he simply chose to retire, which had never been an option before in his life, and it certainly wouldn't start now.  

He had simply never seen himself as Arthur material. He had never really thought about it, had never seen himself in a position of leadership and power. He had never looked beyond his career as a Kingsman agent; being a professional killer had a tendency to make such matters disappear from one’s mind, and it also meant that death was an old friend, a dangerous, ever-present colleague, but never the endgame. Being so close to death at all times, for the best part of his life, meant that thinking about one's death was a luxury Harry had never allowed himself. 

Without his work, he was nothing. A life without Kingsman, without Merlin and Eggsy... It did not even bear thinking. So, he figured the choice was easy enough, all in all. It was hardly a choice to begin with. 

"Of course, I understand. The German branch, then? Well, at least we can count on a job well done." Harry replied in his usual dry, almost subtly ironic tone, while meeting his best friend's gaze in a meaningful, yet steadfast gaze, as if to silently confirm that yes, they were in this together, no matter what it took. "Are we to be transferred to their facilities, or are they sending over a team?" 

 

\----- 

 

"The team is already waiting for us. We've commissioned a temporary HQ with the help of Champ. The sooner you start the evaluation process... the sooner Kingsman can  _be_  again." Merlin took a deep breath. "I dunnae mean to rush you. Harry," Hamish finished at last. "But you know as well as I do what's at stake here." 

And he knew he wouldn't have to say much more than that. 

 

\----- 

 

"We have  _that_ to talk about, as well. The new Avalon." Harry added with a solemn nod and an equally solemn tone of voice, exchanging a meaningful glance with Merlin.  

He could clearly read the exhaustion and the aches and pains etched into that dear, dear face, and he wanted nothing more than to smooth them away. Still, his best friend, his  _brother_ was there again, between safe and (relatively) familiar walls, but most of all, he was  _close._ Close to Harry, close to Eggsy; in short, he was where he belonged.  

"But we will have time to talk about that. Tomorrow, perhaps, if you feel up to it. I promise I'll call the German team first thing, tomorrow morning." Harry reassured his friend as he got up from the chair and reaching forward to press his hand to Merlin's shoulder. He smiled to him, a small thing, but an open, honest smile, one that betrayed just how relieved and happy Harry was to have his best friend back.  

"Welcome home, Hamish. We'll talk tomorrow. Don't hesitate to call me if you need  _anything,_ anything at all. Understood?" With that, and a few more brief exchanges, Harry was out of the room, recomposing himself just as he crossed the threshold and soundlessly closed the door behind himself.  

Searching for Eggsy's gaze immediately, Harry nodded briefly, a wordless communication between them that meant the world already. They were fine -- they were going to be, just like Eggsy had said.  

"He's tired from the trip. He'll be up for more visits tomorrow, Eggsy, if you don't mind. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to have you talking his ear off from start to finish of the visiting hours." Harry said, attempting for humor and wondering if he'd missed by a mile. He probably.  

"How do you feel about a home cooked meal?" 

 

\----- 

 

Eggsy straightened from his lean against the wall as soon as Harry came through the door unfolding his arms and tugging his suit into place. "Yeah good! I hope he's sleeping." 

Stepping up to Harry, Eggsy grinned huge and bright, but that smile dimmed just a bit when the two Statesman got to their feet from where they had been sitting facing Eggsy. Eggsy used to enjoy the attention he got sometimes. It was thrilling to see who he caught the eye of. Something positive in an otherwise shit life. He recognized that there had been a day when Agent Bourbon's attention would have been flattering. A big deal. But then he'd met Harry. Harry Hart. Gentleman. Superspy. And now he didn't want anyone else. Harry coming back from the dead... maybe Eggsy felt a little bit like this was his second chance. Or so he hoped. 

"You sure you don't wanna join us for a drink and some grub, Agent Galahad?" Tequila asked his voice friendly. 

"Nah, bruv. Harry 'n' me gotta settle int'our new place." Eggsy told Tequila not unkindly even as he stepped closer to Harry's side. 

 

\----- 

 

“He will be, soon. He needs all the rest he can get.” Harry replied, picking up his rainmaker and softening imperceptibly when Eggsy showed his enthusiasm at the offer of cooking dinner at home. The last time Harry had done that had been a lifetime ago, almost literally. He figured Eggsy and him could do with a bit of quiet and peace and time to settle into the new place — which was a curious though because first off, Harry seemed to be treating Eggsy’s stay as a permanent thing rather than temporary (which it was), and secondly, Eggsy might not even like the place. Harry himself had hated it while growing up – or, rather, during what little time he’d spent there.  

“Y’sure pal? Y’look like ya could use a bit of fun. Ain’t nothin bad with a drink and a nice time, right?” Came Bourbon’s renewed request, casting what he thought was a winning smile in Eggsy’s direction.  

Harry glanced over at Eggsy, wondering why he was so adamant about being in his company and not with others who were sure to have a good time, being closer to his age and all. Still, who was Harry to judge, and most of all, he certainly wasn’t going to complain if Eggsy wanted to spend the evening with him. Additionally, Agent Bourbon made his skin prickle although he wasn't quite sure why, but he’d more than learnt to trust his instincts over the years. On the other hand, Harry could hardly blame him if he’d taken an interest in Eggsy, and he could certainly  _not_ play jealous if Eggsy chose to spend time with him. Although, judging by Eggsy’s following words, that did not seem to constitute a problem, either. 

“Have a nice evening, gentleman. We’ll be in touch tomorrow, I’m sure.” Harry said in lieu of a full farewell, waiting for Eggsy before they made their exits.  

 

\----- 

 

"Nah fhanks, bruv. I'd just rather be wif Harry." He didn't need to explain any further than that. Let those cowboys take from that what they would. Harry's farewell was blessedly final and Eggsy gave a curt but polite nod just as he turned to follow Harry, trailing just a half-step behind the older gentleman's left shoulder. 

"Fhanks, Harry," he murmured, as they left the hospital and climbed back into their waiting cab, neatening up his speech for just a moment so as to be very clear about his appreciation. "I reahlly wasn't in the mood for a pub crawl." 

Or for more subtle advances from Bourbon. He just wasn't gonna say that to Harry. He was a big boy and Bourbon would get the hint eventually. It was all fine. He was leaving with Harry and that was all that mattered right now. He was going home with Harry. He sounded a bit clingy even to himself, but he couldn't help how much he felt to core that with Harry was exactly where he should be. 

Harry offered Eggsy a polite but felt, "You're welcome, Eggsy." 

With a bit of effort Eggsy turned his mind away from thoughts of his own emotional state, Merlin's voice saying over and over in his head that he had to keep it together. To remember his training, but bottling up the fever-bright sense of relief, the headiness of being able to see and touch and hear Harry again... Eggsy was struggling to do it. So he closed his eyes on the cab ride, leaving getting them to the grocery store, to his mum's, and then to Harry's family's townhouse to Harry. Eggsy happily tagged along on the brief but oddly relaxing shopping trip, keeping up a friendly, lively stream of chatter in the grocery store (despite his fatigue) while they picked up the essentials and some favorites. He opted on going alone into his mum's house to grab the puppies (where they had wisely left them in good keeping when they'd gone to visit Merlin), letting Harry wait in the car rather than face the Unwin women just yet. Unable to help it, Eggsy grew a little quiet as they pulled up to the curbside of the townhouse that would be his home for the foreseeable future. His attention was fixed on this new place and he did his best to keep excessive hopes at bay. 

Eggsy got out and came around the boot looking up at the stately, yellowish orange brick building with its white trim and well-kept facade. "Fhis?" Eggsy breathed and then glanced over to Harry in disbelief, belatedly noting that both Harry and their Kingsman cab driver were pulling grocery bags out of the boot. Eggsy moved to the boot quickly and took over, grabbing the rest of the bags so Harry could let them inside. "Fhis is it?" 

It was more than Eggsy had ever dreamed of staying in. Posh but not so ritzy as to be suffocating. It looked like the kinda home he would have wanted as a kid for his adult self. He hoped Harry could hear the delight, the pleased disbelief in his voice. It felt like his life had turned into some kind of fairy tale! The love of his life returned from the dead. The exciting career of being an international superspy. This townhouse.

How had Eggsy gotten so fucking lucky?! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Lazarus Protocol" we mentioned (and will mention in the future) has been shamelessly inspired by [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan)'s brilliant Kingsman fanfic, [Cast Your Fate To the Wind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13391655/chapters/30675870;), which we strongly encourage you to read, because it's brilliant.
> 
> Also; the Hart family townhouse should look something like this: 


	5. The Panic in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter was inspired by:  
> [ "The Panic in Me" by Elton John](https://youtu.be/a0JAOFOseuQ), from The Road to El Dorado Original Motion Picture Soundtrack
> 
> \-----
> 
> To our readers,
> 
> We apologize for the tardy update but both of us were on holiday on staggering weekends and we just couldn't coordinate the editing and discussion we devote to each chapter.
> 
> We hope you enjoy this update and we hope to upload chapter 6 sooner rather than later.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> innerain & espressopulse

The moment they stepped out of the Kingsman black cab, Harry took a deep breath, looking up at the yellow-orange brick house as he felt his chest getting heavier for the rather unwanted trip down memory lane. He had never loved this house, he did not have any particularly fond memories involving its owners, especially since he'd been spent more time in colleges and boarding schools ever since he was eight years old than the time he'd spent inside of it. Jaw clenching as he pushed the thoughts away, Harry concentrated on what needed to be done, as always, and started to grab their belongings and the groceries from the trunk, only briefly looking up when Eggsy spoke in rather clear amazement and disbelief. 

“Fhis? Fhis is it?” came Eggsy’s question, quite clearly in awe. 

"Yes, yes it is." Harry said, rather tiredly, knowing that questions would be coming; if not in that moment, soon enough, maybe that evening, maybe in the following days. Harry felt like he owed Eggsy at least a little of his backstory, for some reason. He knew everything about the younger man and Eggsy in return knew next to nothing about him. He wasn’t exactly prone to opening up about his past or about himself in general, being a rather reserved man, but for Eggsy he would make an exception (and Eggsy, it seemed, had a penchant for being an ‘exception’ in many respects).   

"I would offer some clichéd words about how I hope you'll enjoy your stay here, but the truth is, I'm not overly fond of this place." Harry admitted as they walked up the steps to the front door, sounding quietly resigned.  

As soon as they were inside, the townhouse displayed all of its richly decorated glory from times past. The walls were mostly covered in dark wooden panels, the furniture around the entrance and peeking out of the adjacent rooms was ornate and lavish, with countless imposing portraits, landscapes and other paintings adorning every wall, heavy antique chandeliers hanging from the ceilings; and all in all, a luxury that spoke of old money and a taste in décor that could have easily been a few hundred years old. None of it was new, none of it looked like it had been used in a while, although the interior of the house itself was clean.  

"I had the maid freshen things up a bit, and the two guest bedrooms prepared for us. I hope that's suitable? Alternatively, there is my old room, or my parents' master bedroom, but I would advise strongly against both." Harry informed, keeping his tone flat and detached as he turned around towards Eggsy. 

\----- 

 Eggsy couldn't seem to stop looking around. The place was... opulent. Eggsy never ever thought he'd have occasion to use that little bit of vocabulary. It went beyond posh and straight into earldom. "Fhis is your family home? Whot? Is you royalty or somefhing an' didn't see fit t'tell me?" 

It was lighthearted and a little awed. He knew Harry would know he meant no offense and that Eggsy's natural proclivity towards "lightening the mood" had definitely kicked in. He had sensed Harry getting wound tighter with tension as they'd neared their new accommodations. Had seen how unhappy Harry seemed about being here. Bad childhood memories no doubt. Eggsy knew that pinching at the corner of his eye and downward tip at the corners of his mouth from his own reflection sometimes. 

Harry's words about the bedrooms lingered heavily in Eggsy's mind. Part of him was insanely curious about what Harry's old bedroom looked like but given his tone, Eggsy wouldn't push. Right on the heels of his lighthearted tease, because he didn't actually expect an answer, Eggsy asked, "Where's the kitchen? I'm beginnin' t'fhink my stomach is gnawin' on my spine." 

His metabolism had gone up now that he had been following Kingsman's regimented training routine, and he ate heartily as much as he could. He hadn't been as active in the weeks following Poppyland, but that would change shortly. He was hoping that the refocus on dinner would help divert the almost disheartened mood his companion had taken. Eggsy wondered what life had been like for Harry when Harry was his age. From the hints he was getting it hadn't been any better than Eggsy's life before now... just with more money and more expectations. At least Eggsy's mom had shown she loved him, but Harry didn't seem overly fond of his parents given that he hadn't spoken of them directly even to say he wasn't fond of them. Eggsy could be way off the mark but given Harry's change in demeanor he'd bet good quid he wasn't. 

  
\-----   
  


"It's... yes. My family townhouse." Harry replied, keeping his voice carefully blank. 

If felt as if some part of him were almost reluctant to show this side of himself, especially to Eggsy, this part of him that he'd never asked for, this legacy of his that his father had all but thrust onto his shoulders since he was but a small child, and that Harry - or, rather,  _Henry -_ had spent decades trying to shun and reject.  

An aspiring lepidopterist with an awful sense of humor, a none-too-hidden proclivity for drinking, an adrenaline addiction barely kept in control... Not to mention, of course, a dramatically obvious preference for men. Harry would have almost laughed at how completely and utterly opposite that picture was to the awkward young thing his father had wanted to mentally browbeat into following his family's footsteps. It was one of the many, many reasons why Chester King had never been a favorite of his.  

"Earl of Hertfordshire, but I hardly see how that's of any significance." Harry muttered in a curt, quick reply as he dropped the bags next to the entrance, aiming for nonchalant and complete carelessness as to what his words entailed. The last thing he wanted was for Eggsy to look at him in a different manner because he was  _royalty or somefhing_ , considering how much Eggsy had been looked down upon and discriminated because of his upbringing and social background. 

"I simply never saw the need to tell you. It's of no consequence." Harry dismissed, before stepping next to Eggsy and gesturing to a hallway down to their left.  

"Shall we cook dinner first then? We can sort out our sleeping arrangements later, and I can give you a tour of the house. Or would you rather do the opposite?" 

  
\-----   
  


Eggsy's initial reaction was to exclaim ' _are you takin’ the fucking piss?!_ ' But he held it back. There was something about how tense, how reserved Harry was. Even more than he usually was. There were ghosts in this house. The kind of ghosts that haunted Harry even when he wasn't here, and for the first time in Eggsy's life he felt maturity settle inside him. Instead of a wild outburst he nodded. 

"That's really not as surprising as I might have thought it should be," Eggsy murmured with a cheeky little grin in proper English. "Dinner first. Pete should be back from my mum's with the puppies before we eat, but we could get started, yeah?" 

Already Eggsy was walking down the hall in the direction Harry had pointed. He really was very hungry and the prospect of having Harry cook him a meal was just so fucking appealing he could barely contain himself. Harry had proven a brilliant cook so far, and Eggsy was eager for another taste of domestic life with Harry Hart.   
  


\-----   
  


One single sharp, whiskey-coloured eye followed Eggsy's reaction, noticing the clear surprise and near-disbelief in his momentarily widened eyes, written into the expression passing over his face like a fleeting thing. He imagined Eggsy’s reaction would be something along the lines of ' _ya shittin' me bruv',_ or perhaps, ' _ya takin' the piss guv'_  , if Harry knew him well enough. But then, to his utmost surprise, Eggsy once more proved his incredible maturity, a wisdom well beyond his years, and a sensibility towards others that Harry had never seen before, in any human being. Others would only dismiss, taunt, laugh, or simply not care. But not Eggsy.  _Never_ Eggsy.  

" _Excuse_   _you_ , young man." Harry replied, clearly joking in that perfectly serious tone, allowing himself that much as he felt a bit of tension bleed out of his posture. Perhaps the shadows didn't seem as menacing, as dark or ever-growing, not with his very own beacon of light by his side. Not with Eggsy, guiding him where he was blind, staying behind him when Harry would step up, standing proudly at his side when Harry was simply Harry, not the Earl of Hertfordshire, not the 16th heir to the British throne, not the greatest agent in Kingsman history, not the soon-to-be-Arthur (if things went to plan) -- Eggsy was there, always, as his friend.  

If that was all that life would grant him, Harry would take it, happily and gratefully.  

"I thought we had settled the 'silver spoon up my arse' matter? I could have you locked in the dungeons for much less than that, mind you." Harry warned in an exaggeratedly poncy, crisp tone, the one which reminded him of his younger self, fresh out of Eton.  

He grabbed the bags of groceries and stood proud, as if he were holding a sceptre instead, or something equally as ridiculous and pompous.  

"Kitchen it is then. Hallway to the left, last room on your right."   
  


\------   
  


It was impossible to contain what could only be called giggles and Eggsy let them come, laughing as he walked with Harry down the hall. "The  _dungeon_ , guv?  _Really_?" 

Harry had the  _best_  sense of humor. He was so strange, but Eggsy loved it, feeling they were birds of a feather. There wasn't another human being alive that could hold a candle to his Harry. Not a one. Fondness in his eyes, Eggsy bumped his right shoulder into Harry's left. "Is it the  _fun_  kind of dungeon? I fhink I might see that as more reward fhan punishment," he added,  _all_  cheek now. 

Eggsy stopped short just inside the kitchen.  ** _Oh_** _… what his mum would give for a kitchen like **this**. It was beautiful and how the bloody hell did they keep the white so clean?_ "You sure we can cook in here? Whot if we get it all... spotty wifh sauce or somefhing?” 

  
\-----   
  


Harry couldn't help it -- his body reacted in all kinds of ways to what Eggsy had said in  _that_ tone of his, all cheek and devious smile and impish giggle. The idea that Eggsy would consider such a kind of ‘dungeon’  _the fun kind?_ Surely he was taking the piss, so to speak. He was clearly just making fun of such practices, and Harry knew better than to take his words literally.  

Either way, however, the young man was a  _menace._ Heavens, he would consider himself lucky if his heart could take it every day from now on -- and yet he wouldn't want it any other way. Harry figured he was lucky that he wasn't one to blush easily, but he still did feel the threatening heat rising to his cheeks, not to mention the way his blood rushed south at the sheer mental image of having Eggsy  _tied_ , firm muscles covered in a thin sheen of glistening sweet, wanton moans pouring from his delicious lips as Harry kept him there, keeping him on edge, never letting him taste anything more than a fleeting morsel of pleasure...  

 _Bloody hell,_ that was definitely more than Harry should have allowed himself in that moment in front of Eggsy, having just stepped into his parents' museum-like house. Mentally shaking himself, Harry tried very, very hard to push those thoughts to the remotest part of his mind. It was perhaps one of the last things he ever wanted Eggsy to find out about him – not because he was ashamed of his proclivities and tastes, but because of what it might just cause between them.  

"I regret to inform you that it's just a wine cellar. The only fun to be had there is the kind that comes with a hangover and a headache, I'm afraid. But we should definitely have some white wine with our dinner tonight, if you agree." Harry mused as they stepped into the kitchen, clearing his voice and trying to recompose himself.  

"Of course. In fact, feel free to get  _everything_  dirty. My parents never dared to set foot into the kitchen anyway. It  _was_ , on the other hand, one of my favorite places."  

Harry remembered the fun he would have, learning how to cook. The basics had taken a while to master (mainly because he rarely, if ever, cooked his own meals as a child, as a boarding school student), but then he had gotten that much better as a bachelor, over the decades. It was still one of the few things he remembered fondly, however.  

"Shall we get started? I do believe someone expressed their hunger quite... graphically.” Harry teased drily as he left the bags of groceries on top of the closest counter and took out all the necessary items.  

“Let's start by washing our hands. We can start by taking out the chili peppers, ginger, lemongrass and fresh vegetables." Harry encouraged, grabbing two aprons from one of the many drawers and opened one up and holding it open to offer to tie it around Eggsy. 

   
\-----   
  


Oblivious to Harry's momentary discomfort in the face of such an amazing opportunity, Eggsy popped the buttons of his bespoke jacket and slid right out of it, draping it on the back of a dining room chair before stepping up to Harry. He ducked his head so Harry could slip the apron about his neck. "Lemme take your jacket, yeah? Fhis is a roll up the sleeves kind of fhing." 

Eggsy's voice was low in deference to their closeness one but also in deference to Harry's admission that he actual liked the kitchen. That told Eggsy a lot actually given what Harry had also said about his parents never coming round this room. He wanted to keep building happy memories here then and maybe that would someday spill over into the rest of their new home. Eggsy wasn't sure when he had started thinking of this as more permanent than had been discussed... but he couldn't help it! He couldn't picture not occupying the same space as Harry any more. 

Was that pathetic? Needy? The man liked men but he'd never hinted at liking Eggsy. No... that wasn't true. Eggsy remembered that hug in the Statesman room. How could he ever forget? 

   
\-----   
  


Harry hummed his agreement as he slipped the apron over Eggsy's head and reached around to grab the two ends of the fabric to tie it carefully around Eggsy's ( _truly, criminally_ ) lean waist. 

"Of course, I agree." Harry replied quietly, not needing any more than that tone of voice since they were standing this close anyway, Harry himself half a step away from leaning over Eggsy's shoulder. When he was done, the older spy stepped away and mirrored Eggsy's smart move, taking off his bespoke suit jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs nearby, before unbuttoning his cufflinks and rolling the sleeves over lean, muscled forearms.  

"How do you feel about peeling the ginger and cutting up and cleaning the peppers and the lemongrass? I would like to have a nice bottle of white wine chilling in time for dinner." Harry asked as they both headed to the large double sink to wash their hands in tandem.  

It felt wonderfully domestic, intimate even, to have this with Eggsy. Cooking together, like Harry hadn't done in years, decades even. He couldn't remember the last time he had cooked for someone who wasn't Merlin, let alone the last time he'd cooked  _with_ someone. It felt good, it felt easy and relaxing, truly enjoyable even, and it was almost too easy to forget where they were, to forget everything that had happened, to forget the weight pressing down on his shoulders, the darkness festering behind his blind eye.   
   
  
\-----   
  
  
Pulling out his phone, Eggsy grinned and his thumbs flew over the phone screen. "I'll just ‘ave Marfha Stewart show me whot t'do. You go find fhat wine, guv, an’ make it a good one, yeah?"  

The grin on Eggsy's lips as he spoke was soft, happy and that wink he couldn't seem to control showed itself again. Slowly, as though he were reluctant to do so, Eggsy turned from Harry and set his phone on the counter, thankful a cutting board was in plain sight, as were the knives. Dividing the work and keeping things light. Eggsy's heart was fairly singing at the domesticity of this evening so far as he set about following instructions from YouTube. This was a fuckton better than going to some seedy bar with a couple of Americans. He felt at home here in ways he couldn't ever remember feeling ever before... and that was all thanks to Harry Hart. 

  
\-----    
  


Harry found it oddly endearing that Eggsy would want to look up a video for something as simple as cleaning up and chopping up some basic raw ingredients; he made a mental note to show Eggsy how it was done as soon as he returned upstairs from the cellar. He made quick work of choosing a white bottle -- a nice bottle of  _Puligny Montrachet_  to go with the rich taste and aroma of the curry chicken -- before returning quickly back up the stairs.  

Since the cellar door was just around from the kitchen entrance, Harry took a moment to give in to one of his most guilty pleasures, which was to watch Eggsy without him being aware of it. He knew just how wrong and creepy it might look, but sometimes, he found himself staring at Eggsy for the longest moments; something would catch his eye without even realizing it, and his entire thought process would be entirely diverted and rerouted to that single element, that single detail. He never seemed to grow tired of picking up the smallest details, the most interesting, yet apparently meaningless things about Eggsy. This time was no different.  

Harry watched him finish cleaning up the chili peppers and move onto chopping the fresh vegetables. He clearly lacked the more refined skills, though -- like he always did -- he more than made up for it by putting his brilliant mind and his instinct to it. Eggsy was that sort of naturally gifted person who could make anything look easy by just putting his mind to it. 

Deciding that he’d done enough pesky ogling, Harry stepped through the threshold and walked back into the kitchen; his steps were purposefully louder than usual (for Harry could be a deadly silent thing -- in every meaning of the word), so as to alert Eggsy of his presence. He drew near him, so that he was standing behind his right shoulder, halfway between Eggsy's side and his back, so that he could gently wrap one hand around the hand and wrist holding the knife. Without so much as a request for permission, Harry showed the smooth, almost effortless movements to be as efficient and precise as possible.  

"It's simply a matter of  _wrist_ movement, Eggsy. It will come naturally if you just let your wrist and the blade do all the work." Harry suggested, his naturally crisp, posh voice taking a more gentle, smooth tone.  

That particular inflection Harry knew to be due to the irresistible desire to teach Eggsy something, show him how it was done in a way that would hopefully come across in the best of ways. He hardly had anything to teach Eggsy anymore. He was his own man now, he had far surpassed any and all expectations Harry might have had even in the privacy of his own thoughts, when he’d first met Eggsy. He had become a better man, a better agent, a better  _person_ that Harry ever hoped to be, and for that, he felt enormous pride, only slightly tinged with the bittersweet knowledge that he hadn’t been there to witness Eggsy become the gorgeous, awe-inspiring butterfly that he now was, having started as barely a  _larva_ when Harry had first met him, and guided him into the world he was now a part of – and a  _protagonist,_ in fact, if Harry were to think of it. Eggsy was his own man indeed. 

  
\----- 

  
The soft tread of Harry re-entering the kitchen behind him set Eggsy's pulse racing. The intimacy, the domesticity, the familiarity between them all blended inside his perceptions, piquing his crush and stoking his love, his wanting desire, creating a potent potion of anticipation. And those steps  _kept coming_. Eggsy watched as if in slow motion as Harry's fine, long fingers slid forward to cover his own. Harry’s hand on Eggsy's wrist was warm and his grip was firm, showing no hesitation in touching Eggsy so casually and with such familiarity. Harry was  _so fucking close_  and Eggsy felt his stomach bottom out, felt his belly grow molten hot at the core, felt his pants tighten... as Harry Hart stood so very close. Harry was bigger than Eggsy - taller, broader - and yet Eggsy felt nothing but sheltered, blanketed by Harry's warmth and soothed by the soft, gentle tone he used as he spoke. Eggsy swallowed hard and risked turning his head to look up into Harry's profile out of the corner of his eye. 

Age showed in the soft lines of Harry's face, experience and perseverance coming together to give character and a certain sense of regalness to the older man's features. The soldering of Harry's hair at his temples and the silver salted through the deep, rich brown locks made him look all the more distinguished. Harry was a  _handsome_  older man, a gentleman good looking enough that the sight of him would make any girl's heart throb and panties drop. Harry made  _Eggsy's_  heart throb (among other things) with the want to not just have him for one night, but to  _belong with_  him. To have his attention and affection, not just for a time but  _forever_. 

Eggsy swallowed hard. "Yeah..." he managed, breathless. "Right. The wrist."   
  


\-----   
  


As Harry showed Eggsy (or at least, tried to) how best to chop up the raw vegetables for their dinner, he had the distinct impression that he wasn’t exactly being listened to. Eggsy had turned his head towards him a fraction, and Harry wondered what he could have possibly seen to have captured his gaze and his interest in such a way. It clearly wasn’t the vegetable chopping technique holding his attention. 

The hand that Harry was holding had gone slack and limp in his grip. Eggsy’s vaguely dreamy, distracted reply moments later would’ve been proof enough on its own. Pausing the movement, mostly to avoid having unpleasant run-ins with the chopping knife, Harry inched back a fraction to meet Eggsy’s gaze. Eggsy had indeed been looking up at him, staring at him perhaps, even, not down at what Harry had tried to show him. Harry felt his stomach give a sharp twist as his brain went haywire. Perhaps Merlin had implied something deeper, bigger after all, when they’d spoken earlier that day? Something that went beyond the simple desire to emulate and learn and be like him, but... but no, it was absurd. An absurd thought. Eggsy’s closeness was clearly messing with his mind.  

There was no denying the bloody delicious scent of him, his closeness, the way his body could perfectly fit between his arms, his wider chest...  _No, no._  This  _had_ to stop. Harry needed to remind himself of his place in Eggsy’s life.  

“Go on then, show me what you’ve understood.” Harry encouraged, forcing himself to take a step back, letting go of Eggsy’s hand as he turned around to lean against the counter. 

  
\----- 

  
It was like the sharp snap of elastic on sensitive skin Harry pulling away. Eggsy flushed - red and rosy - and jerked his gaze back to the knife now in his hand alone. "Uh... it's all... in the wrist," Eggsy recovered and let muscle memory take over, mimicking the guided movements of just moments ago. Harry was still close and distracting but Eggsy's embarrassment rankled his unwilling to be judged nature and inhaled sharp through his nose. "Fhanks, Harry. Fhis is betteh yeah? Like fhis?" 

 _Don't react any more. Don't react any more. Just don't, Eggsy. **Fuck**! _His mind chanted frantically, praying Harry didn't read anything into it all. But Harry's cologne lingered and Eggsy's cock throbbed over a slightly stronger whiff of it.  _Shit! Buggering fuck.... don't be an idiot! Don't chase him off... like the others. Just... tone it down, you bloody idiot!_  

  
\-----   
  


Observing Eggsy while still being relatively close made it rather clear to Harry how tense the younger man looked. He looked somewhat jumpy and perhaps even uncomfortable, and Harry wondered what had made him so. Perhaps he'd overstepped -- quite literally? Eggsy had never expressed, both with his body language and with his words, that he disliked physical contact. If anything, it had always looked quite the opposite. But such a trail of thought felt as though it lead into rather absurd conclusions, ones that Harry wasn’t quite sure he could wrap his mind around. It wasabsurd to even think about it _._  

 _Why would Eggsy... in **him**? It was preposterous. It was... No. He couldn't possibly... _ 

Pushing himself out of the ridiculous train of thought his brain had seem hell bent on following, Harry concentrated on observing Eggsy's knife-work. It was clear the younger agent was no stranger to knives, which is why he kept holding it as a weapon, and not as a kitchen utensil. Had it been a different, parallel universe, Harry would've slipped his hand around his wrist and softened that hold, purring in Eggsy's ear  _like you would hold a lover, Eggsy... Like so._  

"Much better, Eggsy. Let the blade do the work, yes? You're merely cutting up some harmless vegetables." He joked, but in truth Eggsy  _was_ doing a lot better.  

Walking over to the wine cooler, Harry cranked it up and set the wine inside. "Now... once we're done with that, we can start on the coconut base for our chicken." He explained, slipping on his own apron and setting up a pot with the coconut milk on the stove, seasoning it with pepper, salt and cane sugar.  

"Whenever you're ready, we can add the ginger." He wanted to make this a pleasant experience for Eggsy. Whatever it was that had bothered him, Harry wanted to smooth it away, make it better through that easy familiarity that was starting to become the rule rather than the exception between them. He wanted Eggsy to enjoy this place, to enjoy the evening, to enjoy the dinner and the cooking. He wondered if Michelle had been a good cook,  _before_. With that in mind, Harry made a promise to himself, to turn this into a good experience for his beloved young man. 

"Take your time. Cooking needs to be unhurried when possible." Harry said, his voice calm and encouraging, despite the small, worrying little voice nagging at the back of his mind.   
  


\-----   
  


As Harry spoke, Eggsy calmed. How could he not given how soothing Harry's voice always was? He was being ridiculous and he knew it, but in that initial moment his adrenaline reaction had gotten the better of him. Taking a deep breath, he held it a moment then let it out slowly. "Yeah good. Isn't cooking supposed t'be lihke fherapeutic or somefhing?" 

Carefully, Eggsy brought the cutting board over to the stove where Harry idly stirred the beginnings of the curry sauce. Slowly he added the chopped up vegetables and then rinsed his tools, setting them aside. "How much of each of fhese spices? Fhere's lihke  _eleven_  of'em here," he asked as nimble fingers lifted new bottle after new bottle reading labels like 'garem masala' and 'cardimum' and 'turmeric'. His mum had never dared purchase such exotic spices and Eggsy had rarely had enough money to venture out to restaurants he wasn't sure what to order from so he could eat something he'd like and not waste his money.   
   
But Harry wouldn't make him a shit dinner. Eggsy turned the bottle of garlic powder round and round in his fingers, but his focus, his gaze was actually on the back of Harry's shoulders. Broad, straight even at this age when so many other men would have started to hunch... Eggsy  _ached_  to reach up and rub at those lithe, deadly muscles. He wanted to rub his hands across the breadth of them over and over, gliding his palms over body-warmed white cotton. Down the powerful curve of Harry's erotically supple spine. He wanted to turn Harry around and press him into the counter beside the stove, go up on his tiptoes as he wrapped Harry's tie up in his fist and slid his other hand into the hair at Harry's nape practically scaling all that height until he could snog the breath out of both of them. 

Shit. He was  _rock_   _hard_  now... the simmering arousal of a half-stiffie boiling over into a full-on erection.  _Fuck_. But thank everything for the apron! His "misery" would remain unnoticeable with the apron. He just had to get a hold of himself!   
  


\-----   
  


When Eggsy moved closer to him and next to the stove, Harry knew he’d done the right thing. Whatever it was that had made Eggsy tense and uncomfortable seemed to be bleeding away from the tension in his posture that Harry had so clearly seen only moments before.  

“It can be, of course. Eating, too. Cooking is an art, you see. It’s part talent, part learning and experiencing. And a pinch of intuition. So, let’s see. We have ginger, chili pepper, lemongrass, coconut, all of which you are somewhat familiar with, correct? And you know which ones have the stronger aroma and taste. Everything needs to be balanced, unless you want one of the spices to stand out more than the rest.” Harry explained calmly, much like he’d done, a lifetime ago, when he’d shown Eggsy everything he needed to know concerning the table setting, the cutlery and the glasses.  

So much had happened since then. Harry’s own feelings for the younger man had long since been acknowledged for what they were, and Harry had had to learn how to live with them, day by day.  

“Which means that all you have to do is smell each one, let your taste buds be influenced by the aroma — and choose which ones go best with what you’re cooking. If you’re not entirely certain, taste. Remember that some spices taste differently when they have been cooked.”  

While explaining, Harry had taken the chicken breast out of the grocery bag and had started to cut it up into small bite-sized pieces, before rolling them over in some flour. Eggsy seemed... somewhat tense once more, but perhaps once he got the hang of how simple and instinctive cooking really was, he would relax a little. Whatever was bothering him, Harry didn’t want to pry. Eggsy would tell him if he felt like it. 

  
\----- 

  
Dear lord, Eggsy could listen to Harry read a  _bloody phone book_  and end up equally as turned on as Harry instructing him right now. "Yeah. Okay, guv. So..." 

Eggsy, always game to follow Harry's instruction, lifted each spice jar, sniffing them a little before finally deciding to sort out three of them. "Maybe fhese should be strongest, yeah? Curry's supposed t' be spicy so we want heat." 

Guileless green eyes looked up to study Harry's face, seeking the nuances of his beloved mentor's reaction. And taking the moment to once again study Harry's handsome profile a little more, with his silvering hair and handsome smile lines. Eggsy was so taken by everything Harry did, eager to cherish every word and every motion. Fuck but he had it bad. So, so bad. He was smitten, head over heels, twitterpated... he felt warm and his heart kept racing any time Harry came close, spoke, looked his way. Eggsy loved it and... maybe feared it a little because he just knew he'd have his heartbroken if he misread any inkling that Harry might be interested in more. Eggsy had to admit he was beginning to suspect Harry might, but... he still wasn't  _sure_.   
  
  
\----- 

  
As Harry finished cutting up the chicken into bite-sized pieces and rolling them over in flour, he watched Eggsy out of the corner of his eye, and he was close enough to read the names and discern the spices anyway. Just like he'd predicted, Eggsy had chosen perfectly. It would no doubt turn out to be a dish with very strong taste, but perhaps they could balance it out with some more delicate-tasting vegetables and rice.  

"Yes, very good choice, Eggsy. Very good choice indeed. I wouldn't throw in more than a pinch of each, but balance them out however you see fit. You can always add some more as we let the coconut milk boil." Harry replied with an encouraging smile, before taking out a skillet and setting it on the stove.  

"Pour some olive oil, just enough to cover the bottom, then add a bit of that chili pepper you've cut up. When the oil is nice and hot, we can ease the chicken into it. The flour will melt into the oil and create quite a lovely creamy sauce for it." Harry tried to keep his indications simple but challenging enough that Eggsy would have an ever-growing margin of autonomy.  

He was still trying to understand what had Eggsy in such a weird mood. One moment, he was a ball of barely contained excitement and happiness, the next, he looked like his mind was off on a tangent, concentrating on who knew what, or even getting tense and vaguely distracted. Harry hoped that things would ease out as they kept cooking, or he would ask Eggsy during dinner. He wanted to be sure it wasn't because of him -- of something he'd said, or done. And well, he wanted to know if there was anything that he could do for Eggsy.  _Anything,_ really. 

   
\-----   
  


"Sure fhing, Harry," Eggsy replied and turned to the skillet with determined excitement. This - the meat - was where the cooking got good. Where it started to smell stellar. As Harry had instructed, Eggsy covered the bottom of the pan in olive oil and added a goodly amount of the pepper bits to the oil sautéing them up nicely for a few moments before slowly easing the floured chicken chunks into the simmering oil. Having something so in need of his focus actually settled Eggsy's mind and raging hormones - he really was fucking starving and the scent of everything really starting to cook was making his stomach growl – so, unnoticed by himself, his mood evened back out as his mind stopped overthinking. 

Dinner was the most amazing meal Eggsy had ever had. It was hot and delicious and the wine paired with it really well. Eggsy felt like a damn king sitting across from Harry Hart at the long dining table. He said so, exuberantly, numerous times throughout the whole meal, then helped pack up the left overs and clean up. To Eggsy's surprise and delight they moved about the kitchen like they had been doing it for years and, by the time their Kingsman driver came back around with the puppies, Eggsy was sleepy and feeling  _fucking good_. He took them for a short walk then went looking for Harry because the man had mentioned something about a night cap before bed and Eggsy was interested to see what Harry’s choice alcohol was for something so very upper class.   
 

"Harry?" he called searching and curious. 

   
\-----   
  


In the end, Eggsy had seemed to have truly gotten the hang of cooking. He had eased into it and it wasn't long before the two of them were truly enjoying themselves, to the point where at some point Harry just sat back, leaning against the kitchen island, and only gave a few pointers and directions here and there, leaving Eggsy to do all the cooking as he truly seemed to be enjoying it.  

Dinner was also quite a pleasant affair -- the food was quite delicious and the wine complimented the spices beautifully. Eggsy seemed to agree with Harry's enjoyment, expressing as much quite a few times, so much that Harry, pleasantly relaxed from the full, rich meal and the excellent wine, couldn't help but offer Eggsy a nice drink before they went to sleep, one of the few things he remembered his father doing in his study. He wanted to give it his own twist to it, however, so he waited for Eggsy to get back to enjoy some good bourbon together.  

"In here -- the main study. Hallway to the right, second door to the left." Harry called out, stepping out of the room to welcome him back. He would have lit a nice fire in the fireplace, but it wasn't that cold just yet.  

Amidst all the book-filled shelves, he had chosen to take out an oddly fitting bottle of Bourbon, something he was pretty sure he must have gotten for his father as a prank of some sort, seeing as his old man would have never dared to drink something from "the colonies". And, sure enough, there wasn't much missing from the bottle of 17-year-old “Eagle Rare” Kentucky bourbon whiskey. Now that Merlin was back between the safe walls of their homeland, however, Harry figured the two of them could perhaps enjoy the bloody fine Yankee drink with a touch of irony. 

   
\-----   
  


Eggsy came up to Harry in the doorway after spending the unfortunately short walk down the hallway (he'd spent the entire length of the hall admiring the figure Harry in his white cotton shirt with his sleeves rolled up and his shoulder holsters on display over those fucking scale-me-now shoulders, fit waist, and broad chest) with the puppies playfully squabbling at his heels. Eggsy was all soft happy smiles as he followed Harry into the most beautiful study he'd ever seen with its teal accented walls, wood paneling and shelves, rolling ladders, and gorgeous desk and accepted his snifter of bourbon.   
  
"Fhanks," he murmured then raised his glass a bit between them saying, "Cheers? T’Merlin an’ t’ _us_?"   
   
The puppies were tussling on the rug in front of the fire place, play growls and thundering little paws a joyful background noise as Eggsy patiently held his glass up between them his eyes glued to Harry. They were both contentedly relaxed. The atmosphere had definitely lost it's haunted vibe and Eggsy felt all warm and fuzzy, and he was just so bloody in love with his man. He couldn't remember ever thinking the word love so many times ever in his life. A little buzzed from the wine maybe he should have refused the bourbon but no. He wanted to enjoy the evening with Harry and to the fullest. So he'd drink the night cap too and let Harry tell him when it was time to go to bed because Eggsy would choose to stay up all night just like this rather than leave Harry's presence for bloody  _hours_  of sleep. 

   
\-----   
  


Harry smiled as Eggsy entered the richly decorated room, puppies in tow, happily running all over the place in their obvious over-excitement at being in a new place. He reached over to the bottle sitting on his desk, pouring them both a hearty bit of the Kentucky bourbon whiskey, and handed Eggsy his snifter glass with an amused flourish.  

"To Merlin, and to us." Harry agreed as they toasted, nodding with purpose and meaning as he met Eggsy's gaze with a warm, fond smile.  

The drink was a lovely blend of tobacco and smoked notes, only a hint of a sweeter, almost vanilla-kind of aroma. Harry hummed in enjoyment, closing his eyes in satisfaction, taking another sip before moving around the wide, centuries-old desk and rummaging through the various drawers before finding what he was looking for. The older agent knew better than to turn smoking into a proper vice, considering both his age and his line of work, but a single cigarette once in a blue moon couldn't possibly hurt, could it?  

"I'm not offering you one not out of rudeness. I'd rather die knowing that I have not consciouslycontributed to anything that might hurt you. If anything, I should like to say the contrary." Harry informed, his tone now smooth along with his easy, relaxed demeanor, before slipping a cigarette between his lips and walking over to the fireplace, drink once more in hand, sitting down on the floor and taking both puppies into his lap.  

"Please do make yourself comfortable wherever you like, of course. I find the rug to be a perfectly agreeable sitting arrangement at times. My joints won't necessarily agree, but frankly I don't give a damn." Harry added with a light, jokingly aloof tone, before reaching to the side to grab the matches and, drink momentarily on the floor, lighting his cigarette, taking a long drag to begin with. 

   
\-----   
  


Eggsy was still smiling. His heart stuttered to hear such oddly protective words leave Harry's mouth. It thrilled him to his core, but he wasn't some kid who needed watching out for. Eggsy moved over to sit in front of Harry legs folded lotus despite his bespoke trousers. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just unusual since he was used to much looser jeans.  

"Floor’s fine, guv." Eggsy grinned as Higgins appeared at his hip wanting onto his lap. Eggsy helped the stubby-legged puppy climb up with a smile and then finally took a sip of his bourbon. It was different. Rich. Bold. He kind of liked it actually. He took another sip watching as Harry inhaled, drawing off the cig between his lips. 

"You've got somefhing..." he began leaning forward to point at Harry's cheek as if he had something on his face and then snatched at the cigarette with sleight fingers, knowing it was a bold enough move that he might actually manage to nick the cigarette for a drag himself despite Harry's words. 

   
\-----   
  


Harry took another long drag, leaning back with his head resting against the wall as he watched Eggsy sit down in front of him. It felt oddly good to be in here, in the study, with Eggsy; it was nothing like what it had felt like, growing up. He was barely allowed in the room at all, and when it was, it was usually because he’d been caught doing some tomfoolery, which hardly meant pleasant consequences. Harry knew that he only had Eggsy to thank if being inside of his father’s study didn't feel horrible enough to make his skin crawl with discomfort. It actually felt right, relaxed,  _good._ Far too good perhaps, and Harry realized at once just how much he'd let his guard down. It had nothing to do with the alcohol, seeing as he was still perfectly sober, and everything to do with the intoxicating, magnetic presence sitting before him.  

"Do you like it? It's Kentucky bourbon whiskey. Merlin would be appalled." Harry said after another sip, taking a deep drag and letting the white smoke leave his lips in lazy, slow curls. His gaze then followed Eggsy's hand coming closer to his cheek with a furrowed brow, heartbeat picking up almost instantly, and he only had his  _stupid_  emotional reaction to blame if he reacted a split second too late.  

"Quite the bloody cheek on you, young man." Harry breathed out at once, his good eye widening, though it was clearly all still in good-natured humor. Eggsy's abilities with his hands (the sheer  _quickness_ of them, because heavens forbid Harry's mind came close to fantasizing about anything other than that particular ability) weren't exactly a surprise, but still, Harry hated that he'd been momentarily frozen because of those stupid,  _stupid_ feelings. They were naught but a nuisance at the best of times. 

   
\-----   
  


Eggsy laughed pure delight in the tone as he brought the cigarette to his lips and took a drag himself. Harry's mouth, those perfect lips, had just been exactly here his were now and Eggsy's eyes fluttered closed to think it. The smoke was a familiar thing and Eggsy pulled the cigarette from between his lips as he held it just a second before slowly blowing it out in a lazy cloud. He offered the cig back saying, "I ain't some kid, Harry." But he winked good-naturedly and took another sip of his bourbon. "Yeah, it's good. I actually lihke it. Almost fhink Merlin don' know whot he's missin'." 

Eggsy's eyes followed the cigarette as Harry took it back too tipsy to check himself and even try to conceal the way he watched Harry go for another pull. Elegant hands, lovely wrists.... fuck... those lips again. Eggsy dropped his eyes suddenly realizing that yes he'd been staring and reached out with ready fingers to accept the cig back. 

   
\-----   
  


"You are most certainly not." Harry scoffed, amusement still twinkling in his good eye behind the lens of his glasses. "This has absolutely nothing to do with your age and everything to do with not deliberately doing anything that could be deleterious to you, not unless strictly necessary. I couldn't possibly stand that." He added smoothly after a moment, stopping himself moments before his subconscious gave his mouth the absurd command to mirror Eggsy's lips and lick his own. He  _had_ to control himself, he couldn't just allow himself to respond to his own desires as if he were some bloody teenager. He'd never felt  _anything_ like this, an all-consuming, burning thing, a siren call that held nothing but regret, hurt and distance in its dark, bottomless pit.  

"Well, there's all that much more for us to drink, then." The older spy quipped as he took the cigarette back from Eggsy's nimble fingers and took another drag, then chased it down with the last of his bourbon. Leaning back once more, head resting on the wall, Harry flicked the cigarette ash into the fireplace and then gently scratched behind Sir Prince's ears as the puppy seemed to be asleep in his lap. 

   
\-----   
  


" _Harry_ ," Eggsy called in a slightly sing song tone and waggled his fingers in the air between them before making a soft ‘gimme’ waving gesture towards himself. "It's goin' t'take a helluva lot more fhan a few puffs on a cigarette once in a great while t'kill the lihkes o'me. C'mon. Hand it back oveh." 

The younger agent's tone attempted to leave no room for argument. Truthfully, if Harry refused, Eggsy wouldn't be overly put out. How could he be when watching Harry smoke was almost the highlight of the night so far? The way the man seemed so entirely relaxed now was thrilling to Eggsy's poor smitten soul. It made the younger man's heart skip a little just to watch those graceful fingers lift the cigarette to alluring lips. It was hard to tear his gaze away again but he managed to divert his attention to the puppy in his lap and took another sip to finish off his bourbon. 

And then there was the matter of how adamantly against condoning anything that might be detrimental to Eggsy's well-being Harry had declared himself to be. Eggsy didn't want to get his hopes up, but how could that just be his mentor talking? Surely…  _surely_  that was Harry showing more than a mentor's interest in Eggsy. But… if he were wrong… it would ruin everything, and Eggsy couldn't even stand the thought of that. Wouldn't it be better to be romantically alone and be by Harry's side? He had to believe that having Harry at all, even just like this, was better than losing him completely. Losing Harry completely would just… it would kill him. 

   
\-----   
  


Eyes narrowing for a moment, Harry pulled the hand holding the cigarette further away from Eggsy. The younger man was clearly more than a little relaxed from the alcohol, and Harry’s own self-control was already being pushed well over its limit. Tie-less, more than a little rumpled, sated from the food, shirt sleeves rolled up, first two buttons undone, nursing a glass of bourbon. Wasn’t he just a sight, achingly beautiful with his sharper edges softened, his belligerent spirit mellowed? Eggsy was the very picture of what the word “sin” spelled out inside of Harry’s brain. If Harry hadn’t been so busy with keeping himself together, he would have complimented himself for his own self-control and his willpower.  

“Have you misheard me? It’s not a matter of something that would kill you. I spoke of harmful, deleterious things. You can do whatever you like, of course. Just don’t ask me to actively participate.” Harry replied, still clearly playing along, thankful that he’d managed to get a sentence together without having his eye slip down to fixate on Eggsy’s lips or neck.  

 _Bloody hell_ , he had it bad. With one last drag, Harry put out the cigarette butt in the fireplace, then glanced over to the bottle, wondering if another drink would be a bad idea. “There’s another cigarette in the drawer, if you’re really craving one. I’m not going to stop you.” 

   
\-----   
  


Well that took all the appeal out of it. Eggsy dropped his hand and shook his head huffing a soft laugh as he started rubbing the puppy with both hands. Higgins groaned in delight and stretched out more in the space created by Eggy's folded legs. "Nah, guv. I'm goohd. Wouldn't want t'offend your sensibilities or anyfhing," he teased right back glancing up through his lashes at Harry. 

Eggsy was struggling to keep his eyes to himself. He wanted Harry so fiercely it sometimes almost choked his thoughts the desire was so powerful. Harry had a way of getting under his skin, of stoking the fire inside him that burned for Harry alone. Eggsy lowered his gaze again almost coyly. He lived for this banter. Ached to hear Harry's voice nearly all the time. He was lovesick to a point of insanity, but he embraced it. Higgins yawned and Eggsy stopped rubbing him. 

“Fhank you, Harry," Eggsy said softly and clearly, voice a bit tight with emotion. "For t’night. I haven't felt fhis relaxed in..." He sighed and slowly leaned back, hands flat on the floor behind him. Eggsy let his head fall back and he looked up at the ornate ceiling. "A long, long time."   
  
He pick up his head and smiled at Harry slow and genuine. Harry was a vision resting against the wall beside the ridiculous hearth. He looked like a piece of art, lounging there with Sir Prince conked out and twitching in his sleep in Harry's lap. Lucky little dog. 

   
\-----   
  


“Offend my sensibilities” Harry repeated with a smile, scoffing as if teasingly offended. “I can assure you, my sensibilities take much more than that to be offended”.  

Then, when Eggsy spoke again and went as far as thanking him for the evening, Harry shook his head softly and looked down briefly at the sleeping puppy in his lap, still smiling fondly. Eggsy had no idea of how grateful Harry was to  _him_ , for so much — for everything. Being there, in that house, with him, brightening up everything, making everything simple and enjoyable... Ultimately, Harry wanted to thank him for being  _him_ , no matter how utterly clichéd and soppy that sounded.  

“Nonsense. You have nothing to thank me for, Eggsy. If anything, it is I who should be thanking you. I, too, have had a delightful evening.” The older spy replied, warmth and fondness and affection for once unguarded and clear in his voice. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself, my dear Eggsy.” 

   
\-----   
  


"Guess it really has been an amazing evening then hm?" Eggsy's grin was huge now, the youth beaming as his heart pattered. 'My dear Eggsy'?  _Shit_. Whenever Harry called him that it felt like the man had set loose a thousand butterflies in Eggsy's stomach, which was – all things considered – fairly appropriate. His grin was broken by a sudden and powerful yawn and Eggsy shook his head hard covering his mouth. Apparently the night cap was working. 

"Nm sorry. 'Scuse me."   
  
He hated the idea of going to bed - alone and without Harry - but it was probably inevitable. Still maybe he could hold out a bit more. 

"So. Whot's for breakfast t’morrow?" 

   
\-----   
  


Nodding softly and humming in quiet contentment, Harry then arched one eyebrow when Eggsy yawned and shook his head.  

“No apology needed. A nice meal and a good drink before bed work wonders, I find. Is there anything you might need for the night? Anything I might fetch for you?” Harry asked, trying to control himself when faced with such an endlessly endearing sight. Eggsy, sleepy and relaxed, holding a softly snoring pug puppy in his lap. 

“I’m sure we’ll fix something, you needn’t worry. Eggs, beans on toast, whatever we feel like really.” 

   
\-----   
  


"M'good, guv. Fhanks fhough." He hoped Harry didn't mind Eggsy calling him that. 'Bruv' was too informal and snotty and Eggsy didn't dare call him most of the endearing pet names that came to mind constantly. He realized he'd used the nickname Haz by accident the night before, and he was very glad that Harry hadn't said anything either away about it. 

Another yawn stole his breath and he huffed a laugh at the end. "I'm fuckin' knackered fhough... obviously." Sighing he gathered Higgins up, the puppy never waking as Eggsy got slowly to his feet. "Fhink I'll turn in.... night, Harry. An’... fhanks again." 

He didn't want to, but it was stupid to be uselessly tired in front of Harry. Eggsy supposed he would be mature and go to bed. 

   
\-----   
  


Harry let out a mock huff of impatience and irritation, though there was clearly no true heat to it. “If you simply must use nicknames, Eggsy, then you may use Haz, I suppose.  _Guv_ is certainly amongst the ones I can do without at my age, yes?" Harry reprimanded, though it was clear he didn't truly mean it in any ill way, no matter how much his gaze narrowed a little.  

His ever-perceptive brain seemed to have latched onto that tiny, itty little nickname, which Eggsy might have used before, but... Since last night, Harry supposed he felt better enough about himself that he could allow the use of the nickname. He didn't dare tell Eggsy that his name was already a nickname to begin with -- though in truth, Eggsy's own name was a nickname as well. Birds of a feather in some aspects, and all that.  

"Yes, quite. It seems like a good idea." Harry agreed, slowly getting up as well, oh-so-gently depositing the softly snoring Sir Prince on the nearby armchair, then followed Eggsy to the door, holding it open for him.  

"I'll stay awake a little while longer, so don’t hesitate to call out and ask me for anything you might need. Also, do feel free to move around the house and make yourself at home. Good night, Eggsy. Sleep well." 

   
\-----   
  


There was the bottoming out sensation in his belly again. It was something Eggsy was becoming quite familiar with spending so much time around Harry like this. To the thing responsible for it right now, Harry  _wanted_  Eggsy to call him  _Haz_? Like hell if Eggsy would decline on that! "You got it, Harry. Won't call you ‘guv’ again." 

Eggsy looked up, close enough to be surrounded by Harry's cologne as he spoke, and with a cheeky grin and a saucy wink, he stepped into hall. About ten steps down the hall, on his way to the stairs that would take him to the bedrooms, Eggsy turned to cast a lingering look to see if Harry were still there. If he was Eggsy would offer a salute-wave. If he wasn't... well Eggsy would try not to be too disappointed. He just wanted one last lingering view of all that long, lean, half-suited man. 

   
\-----   
  


"Thank you, Eggsy. I appreciate it." Harry replied, features softening with the easy, comfortable exchange, as his heart was warmed by the joy written so clearly on Eggsy's face.  

Why the younger man was so utterly enthused at the idea of something as banal as having a nickname for Harry, one that he'd created, one that was special for him only, one that Harry had allowed, was beyond him. It couldn’t possibly mean anything beyond affection, beyond the bond that linked Eggsy to him as a protégé to his mentor. As long as Eggsy wasn't looking at him like a father figure... The sheer thought of being Eggsy's  _father_  surrogate or something of that kind made Harry's blood turn to ice. Not because of Eggsy, of course. Anyone should have considered themselves lucky, blessed even, to have a son like Eggsy, to watch him grow into the amazing, selfless, beautiful man that he was. No, it was entirely because of Harry.  

He felt awful enough already for the feelings he kept safely hidden; the last thing he wanted was to be considered the middle-aged creep who was in love with a man nearly half his age ( _yes,_ he'd said it. He'd said it a thousand times before, in the quiet of his own mind. He didn't have to be a superspy to understand the feelings he felt for Eggsy).  

Stepping out behind Eggsy, he watched him walk down the hallway, still feeling the frisson curling low in his belly at the impish grin and the  _wink,_ that bloody week that would surely give him a heart attack some day. However, he had a dignity to maintain, as much as possible.  

"Good night, Eggsy." He called out softly from the threshold, waiting until Eggsy had disappeared around the corner before retreating back into the study.  

Surely another glass of bourbon wouldn't go amiss? Sir Prince didn't seem to mind either way, snoring softly as he was. With another generous amount of the bourbon in his glass, Harry sat back down next to the fireplace, pulling the puppy once more onto his lap, as he replayed the evening's events over and over in his mind. Eggsy's behavior, his reactions in certain contexts, his response to certain kinds of body language, of cues... His way of interacting with Harry, in general.  

There was  _something._ Harry couldn't deny it.  

Perhaps Eggsy was feeling some misplaced physical attraction towards Harry? No, the physical aspect was secondary. It  _had_ to be secondary. Perhaps it was an infatuation, due to Harry's older age, his more mature personality, his greater experience? It wasn't unheard of. An  _amour de tête,_ as Stendhal would have perhaps written. Still, it didn't seem to fit the bill quite right... 

   
\-----   
  


Eggsy had gotten ready for bed and joined Higgins at a snail's pace, exhaustion making him sluggish. He collapsed back on his pillow, tucking his arm behind his head and was out before he realized he was falling asleep. 

 

Perhaps it was the exhaustion. Maybe the nightcap. But he sank like a stone into inky darkness. Everything felt warm and fluid but in an uncomfortable way that got Eggsy's heart racing with that primal fear of drowning, but then things faded out and faded in and he found himself in an uncomfortably, nostalgically familiar pace.   
   
Through an open door in the blackness Eggsy could see the almost orange walls of Harry's now destroyed study as bare as he remembered them last, richer colored squares framed by the slightly faded bulk of the wall around it where the tabloids had protected the paint from aging.  ** _This wasn't right._**  He was sure this place didn't exist any more but Eggsy went through that doorway - drawn irresistibly to it in that way of dreams - to the desk and sat, opening the laptop. He could hear JB's paws, nails clacking as pug paws did, and his tags - and he somehow just knew, by the familiar pattern of the trot that it  _had_  to be JB and neither of the puppies and his heart  _twisted_  - just outside the office door now. Eggsy's throat suddenly felt tight and a frisson of fear bolted through him.  ** _This wasn't real._**   _He had to be dreaming._ Commotion from the laptop sat open on the neatly arranged desk drew his attention and in a haze he sat only to be sucked into the scene on the screen as if he had been there in that brightly lit, chaotic church. He was a ghost at Harry's back as Superspy Agent Galahad brutally butchered a church full of raving lunatics. Eggsy could hear Merlin's voice as though it came from far away and his own gurgling cries as if they came from underwater. 

   
**_No!_** Eggsy's heart screamed.  _No! Not again!_  He couldn't watch what came next.  _He couldn't!_  But the scene rolled on like unstoppable reality. Just like it had before when he'd been helpless.  _Useless_.  ** _Devastated_**.   
   
And then Valentine was talking, odd lisp strange and hissing in Eggsy's dream as Eggsy lost track of his awareness, panic rising as he railed against what he knew was going to come. The gunshot and the sudden, eerily peaceful view of the sky spiraled the panic into the gut-ripping agony of loss. The shock of knowing Harry was gone had him shrieking awake with Harry's name on his lips just as the door burst open. 

   
Eggsy's face was wet with tears, his vision blurred by them. His heart was racing, frantic to stop what had just transpired and despairingly tight because he hadn't been able to do a damn thing. Not then and not this time either. But the figure in the door was moving towards him.   
   
" _Harry_ ," he choked blindly reaching because  _Harry **was**  alive_ and that terrible, cold, sick feeling lingering from the dream was confusing to his half-awake mind. 

   
\-----   
  


It was only a few hours later that Harry decided that, insomnia or not, he would need to at least make a token effort and  _try_ to go to bed. He much preferred the idea of having another sleepless night than to have a repeat of the nightmare, but considering the weight of all the thoughts and concerns that had been coursing through his mind in the past few hours, barely the tip of a much larger, week-long iceberg (if not long before then, back to a lifetime ago, back before everything had gone to shit) -- well, he couldn't really be surprised if there was no reprieve to be found in the arms of his long-term stranger, Morpheus. But he had to try, at the very least. 

Sir Prince snuggled in his arms, Harry headed to his room and left the puppy to sleep at the foot of his bed; he undressed and started pulling on the bottom half of his pajamas, when he heard a loud, sudden scream: his name.  

 _Eggsy,_ his mind immediately recognized the voice.  

Blood turning to ice instantly in his body, Harry dropped everything that he was holding and grabbed the gun from the bedside table drawer, where he'd stored it before getting ready for bed (he would rather gouge his remaining eye out than have a repeat of the previous night and point a gun at Eggsy again. He'd rather get killed first); his body was locked in, ready to fight off any attacker who had the  _bloody nerve_ to attackEggsy,  _his_  Eggsy, in  _Harry's_ own home.  

Heading in the direction of the room Eggsy was staying in with all the stealth and the speed of which Harry was more than capable of, he activated his Kingsman glasses just as he was rounding the corner of the threshold and entering the room. There was no one, or so his glasses displayed. There was no one around except the two of them, no threat.  

The relief Harry felt in that moment was like no other he'd ever felt. He felt a broken breath choke itself into his throat, his mind stuck on the same realization over and over --  _Eggsy is fine. There's no one attacking him. There's no one else in the house. He is fine. He's unharmed._  

The moment his brain registered that, Harry lowered his gun and his eye immediately landed on Eggsy's form, still in bed, calling out his name with such pain and horror and desperation cracking his voice that Harry felt his own chest constrict with mirroring feelings -- feelings that he was all too familiar with.  

Before he could rationally decide what to do and how to react, his instincts were already ten steps ahead; in but a split second, he was over by the bed on Eggsy's side and laying down the gun on the bedside table. 

"Eggsy" Harry called out, his voice gentle but firm, wanting to shake Eggsy out of the throes of his nightmare.  

"Eggsy, Eggsy...  _I'm here._  You're awake. You're fine."  

Realizing that it wasn’t enough, that Eggsy was struggling to gain awareness and wakefulness again, realizing that Eggsy was  _in pain,_ Harry decided that he would send a big, mental " _fuck off"_ to decency, propriety, to all the mental and physical limits and restrictions he'd placed for himself when it came to Eggsy. In that moment, Eggsy was hurting, he was tormented, and he  _needed Harry_  -- if his rather desperate way of calling out his name was anything to go by.  

"Sssh, I'm here. I'm here, Eggsy." Harry rumbled softly as he dared to slowly and gently lower himself onto the bed, inching closer to the younger man and opening his arms to welcome him into an embrace; he had observed that Eggsy had always seemed to find some form of safety into his arms, he’d hugged him first thing in that bloody padded room in Kentucky, and, if nothing else, he’d been calling his name rather desperately. Harry could not have possibly ignored that. Never.  

   
\-----   
  


Harry's voice was like a beacon in the disoriented haze of waking and Eggsy  swayed towards him. He was panting and his breath was shuddery and wet sounding, so he must have been tossing about and crying for a while, but he couldn't give a fuck. The moment Harry's weight settled beside him on the bed, Eggsy sniffled and slipped his arms around Harry's chest pressing in close and quick as he could. He tucked his head below Harry's chin and clung hard as he shuddered through quiet sobs. Warm tears soaked Harry's skin but Eggsy couldn't seem to stop just then or let go. 

He couldn't believe this was real. Harry was here.  _Fuck! Harry was here! He was **alive**!_ Harry Hart was holding him and talking to him so gently, his lovely voice soothing and deep right beneath Eggsy's ear. Naked skin pressed into naked skin both of them shirtless and Eggsy calmed slowly as much from that - solid proof that Harry wasn't some lost cold corpse - as the assuaging sound of Harry's voice. It was palliative, having warm, tangible,  _tactile_  proof of Harry's continued existence. Eggsy was surrounded by the older man's scent, his lingering cologne, the faint whiff of smoke and bourbon, and the rich smell of  _Harry_  himself. As his racing heart calmed and reality settled back in, Eggsy's crying quieted. 

"F-fuck... it was -  _Shit_." Eggsy took a deeper still shaky breath and forced out through clenched teeth his next words. "Valentine an'  _fuckin' **Ken-tucky**_ **.** " Eggsy shuddered and closed his eyes tighter. "I woke up fhinkin' you was still fuckin' gone..." he added in a whisper, dipping his head and still clinging to Harry his voice muffled against warm skin and an (admittedly sexy) small amount of chest hair. "M'a fuckin' mess..." he mumbled. 

   
\-----   
  


Nothing had ever felt more natural, more  _right_  than the embrace that Eggsy and Harry slid into, almost instinctively, like two puzzle pieces coming together. Eggsy pressed close to Harry, folding into his arms as if he wanted to disappear into them, as if he wanted to curl himself up into the smallest atom and be enveloped by Harry, be held by him to escape whatever it was that would have the  _bloody fucking cheek_ to hurt him.  

And hold him Harry did. Strong, warm arms were wrapped around the smaller, yet athletic, sinewy body, keeping it close, safe. No words were needed as Harry simply  _held,_ and yet he murmured gentle nothings, small encouragements, small reminders that he was there, that they were fine. His stupid,  _stupid,_ treacherous body wanted nothing more than to press his lips to the longer strands of honey brown hair, damp with sweat; yet Harry knew he just had to resist all the more. There was a time and a place for everything,  _for fuck’s sake,_ not to mention that would have been wrong in so many ways, it was just preposterous to even consider it.  

"Ssssh," Harry cooed softly, when Eggsy seemed to be unable to speak just yet, words choking painfully in his throat. It hurt so much to hear that; it hurt so much more than even his own post-nightmare horrors and terrors and pains all over again, because this was  _Eggsy;_ precious, generous, lively Eggsy, who did not deserve to feel a  _fraction_ of pain, ever, in his life. Harry wanted nothing more than to take all that pain and anguish from Eggsy, suffer through it himself a thousand times more if needed, if it meant leaving him without even a single speck of darkness and torment.  

When Eggsy disclosed bits and pieces and tormented fragments of his dream, Harry sighed softly, feeling his heart ache with sympathy and guilt over what had happened, over what Eggsy had had to go through, because of him, because of what had happened. Judging by the way he'd called out to him, like a desperate man, calling out one last time, Harry suspected there was so much hurt there, so much grief and bereavement that Eggsy had never even told him about.  

"No, no. You're perfectly fine. You're fine, my dear. You're alright. Quite alright." Harry murmured softly, gently, feeling his heart shatter a little more with how utterly devastated Eggsy sounded, and with how much he would still occasionally tremble in his arms. Eggsy sounded so utterly heartbroken, Harry simply couldn't stand it.  

"Here," Harry said, softly, almost like a confession, as he took Eggsy's right hand and guided his palm to rest over his chest, just above his heart. "It's still beating, yes? It has been, for quite a long time now. It  _has_  stopped a few times I'm afraid, but only briefly. It's quite alive, you see. And so am I."  

Beneath Eggsy's hand, Harry's heart was beating fast, but steady, the mixture of adrenaline and Eggsy's closeness making his heartbeat go haywire, though he supposed it could be simply chalked off as being a lingering effect of the rather heavy fright he'd just had. 

   
\-----   
  


Harry's heart beat a little fast, but steady and powerful beneath Eggsy's palm and the younger man pressed his palm flat over Harry's pectoral, inhaling slow and holding that breath a moment before letting it out shakily. Harry was so giving, so bloody understanding and seeing him settle in beside Eggsy rather than offering a few platitudes and going back to bed was a blessing really as far as Eggsy was concerned.  "Fhank... fuck for fhat," he whispered his other arm still wound tight behind Harry. "M'sorry.... I didn't mean t'freak you out. I haven't had fhat dream in a coupla weeks. Fhought since you've been back fhey'd stop...."  

He wanted to burrow into Harry's embrace and never leave it. The relief of Harry's heartbeat, his voice, that clean scent of his skin overlaid with the aromas of the day... all of it made Eggsy feel infinitely better. Knowing Harry was here, touching Harry, breathing him in... was doing wonders for his panicked psyche. He finally dared to lift his head and look up, though he couldn't say he leaned away much. "Fhanks, Haz," and then despite his teariness he offered a shaky smile. "Mm... would you mind uhmm… stayin'? At least for a bit." 

   
\-----   
  


The sheer idea that Eggsy had been suffering from that same, recurrent nightmare for who knew how long (possibly, probably a year) made Harry's chest tighten with sympathy and guilt once more, feeling another fierce impulse to take all of that pain and sadness and grief away from him, away from this marvelous creature of light and warmth in his arms, who was never meant to feel anything even  _close_ to all that.  

"Nonsense. You have nothing to apologize for. Understood?" Harry replied, his tone still gentle and kind, but rather firm, needing to get his point across. "It takes time. It's perfectly acceptable not to be alright. It's fine. It's all fine."  

Hoping that Eggsy would start to calm down a little, Harry mentally pushed away that part of his brain that was raging and screaming at him to take a step back, to keep himself at a distance, to avoid getting so bloody attached, but the truth was that being so close to Eggsy, having him in his arms, feeling his skin against his own, his head resting against his chest... It all felt so,  _so_ good, so  _right_ , it almost moved Harry to tears.  

He was being thoroughly idiotic and soppy and emotional --  _he'd definitely turned into a sad old man, he knew that much_  -- but he couldn't help himself. Eggsy needed him, Eggsy had dreamt of him, dying,  _killing..._ and, well, the former he could dispel with relative ease, but the latter... How could he forget about his own nightmare from the evening prior? How could he forget his own hands, still dripping with the blood of dozens and dozens of innocent people? And yet Eggsy seemed to ignore that. Eggsy only seemed to remember his death. His dear, wonderful Eggsy, who only seemed to think and remember the best of him. If one’s death could be considered one’s best moment.  

When Eggsy asked him to stay, Harry felt all that raging tension and discord heightening and deepening at once, torn between his heart and his mind, his desires and his willpower, his wishes and his duties. If the previous night's events were anything to go on, Eggsy quite possibly wanted Harry to stay for the night. He seemed to be very adamant on physical contact, even when deep in slumber (and Harry's body remembered quite clearly how wonderful that embrace had felt, waking up so close to Eggsy, though he would have liked to have been the one holding him). In a way, he realized rather stupidly, he  _was_ holding him already. Sleeping in the same bed held a meaning of its own, intimate and personal in a way that even an embrace like the one they were sharing couldn't begin to get close to. But, ultimately, Harry knew the battle was lost from the start. He knew himself to be a lost cause. When it came to Eggsy, Eggsy would always win in his heart.  

"I... Yes. Of course." Harry granted, more to himself than Eggsy, and nodded once. Perhaps he should go and put on his pajama top, to be decent at the very least. "Of course, I'll stay. Would you like a glass of water, perhaps?" 

   
\-----   
  


Eggsy had, heart still pounding, nuzzled his cheek back against the warmth of Harry's chest almost as soon as he'd spoken. His eyes shut tight as he waited for a rejection of the very notion that Harry would stay. He waited for the ‘ _You're a big boy, Eggsy. You'll be alright. You don't need me. Don't you think it's time to grow up a little?_ ' line of answers. He should have known better. 

Harry Hart was so much fucking better than that.   
 

A killer Harry might be, but he wasn't some bloodthirsty lunatic. Despite years of killing in the name of Queen, country and humanity, Harry was the best man Eggsy had ever met. The man's ability to be so good against all the odds to the contrary had nurtured a massive amount of respect (and infatuation) in the younger agent. Not just respect (and seriously some hefty fascination that had his mind mostly on long intimate nights with the man) either. Eggsy could still remember that first afternoon at the Black Prince - fuck how could he not? - and the way his heart had pounded, the way his pants had tightened and his soul (yes it was fucking corny but bugger it because it was the truth!) had resonated. He'd half hoped, in his street rough naivety, that the badass bloke in the slick suit would request sexual favors in return for freeing Eggsy. He had never been tempted to bend over for or blow a complete stranger before but Harry had proven over and over that in Eggsy's world he was without a doubt special. 

Lust aside, it hadn't taken more than a few weeks for Eggsy to fall stupidly, madly in love. He had, back then, reasoned that once he'd become an agent himself, they'd be on more equal footing and Harry would bed him (maybe someday wed him), but the bloody tosser had gone and seemingly gotten his ass killed. Eggsy had been a wreck and while Tilde had been a great distraction... Eggsy had mourned and mourned Harry. Even if Harry hadn't come back that would have certainly ended that relationship before too much longer anyway.   
 

And here Harry was.   
 

"Yeah... shit. An' some clean sheets? Fhese're soaked. Please?"   
  
Eggsy's heart was threatening to pound its way out of his chest. Harry was going to stay! An almost dizzying wash of delight washed through him. He was still trembling a bit though he was much calmer now. "I'll go 'ave a rinse too... I'm fuckin' rank."   
   
So far Eggsy was priding himself on his patience. He had no proof that Harry wanted anything more than a partnership of field action. Yet he couldn't convince his hopeful soul or his instincts that Harry didn't want anything more. Especially right now with all that soft, marred, warm skin and powerful muscle enveloping him in a cocoon of love and safety. Eggsy's thumb couldn't seem to stop stroking the inner swell of the pectoral muscle where his palm splayed over Harry's heart. The action tugged a little at the edge of the elegantly, arousingly minimal chest hair there and Eggsy didn't know how long he'd been doing it but he wasn't gonna stop until they separated.   
 

 _He was so in love_.   
  


He was so fucked unless his instincts were right and Harry actually felt more than some unorthodox sponsorship "feelings". 

   
\-----   
  


At this point, Harry figured, he was already in too deep. His feelings for Eggsy had taken control of the matter and he couldn't bear to separate himself from the younger man in any way. At this point, he was fucked to such a degree that he doubted there would be any coming back from it. Not that he wanted to. Harry was, in truth, a rather selfish man. If he hadn't been, he would have taken a huge step back, he would have given Eggsy the comfort he needed, and then gotten away from it all, because he knew better than to get involved, he knew better than to get too attached -- emotionally, physically, mentally...  

He knew for a fact, by now, that Eggsy cared about him, probably more than a simple friendship would have justified. If anything had come out of Harry's nighttime musings and reasonings, it was that Eggsy might’ve just indeed had feelings for Harry. Perhaps it was a physical attraction, perhaps one that involved a more intellectual attraction, or all of the above. It explained many things, it helped shed light on behaviors and reactions that were otherwise inexplicable.  

Yet, no matter how much Eggsy might or might not harbor those feelings, Harry  _couldn't_ give in. He was a selfish enough man that he would take this, take this sudden, unexpected, wonderful but short-lived closeness and contact and intimacy, he would allow himself this much, but no more. What he  _couldn't_ allow himself was to take any more, or allow things to degenerate -- he would not be the one thing, the one person standing between Eggsy and his happiness. He was a selfish man, yes, but his love for Eggsy was such that Eggsy’s happiness came before his own, in every possible way, before his own desires and wishes.  

He knew he was a lost cause, helplessly, desperately in love with the younger man, but he was gone far enough to know that there was no use fighting it. It would take a respectful step back when the time came, and allow himself at least the pleasure of watching Eggsy be happy with someone else, and he would always be there as a friend. Always.  

"Of course. Anything you need." Harry agreed gently, not making a move to separate himself just yet, being greedy enough to steal just a few more moments and even daring to brush a hand through Eggsy's sweaty strands of hair.  

The hand still resting on his chest made him push down and repress a soft shiver threatening to course down his spine, when nimble fingers brushed along his pectoral and in the small dip between the two well-formed muscles. It was a guilty pleasure to enjoy it, he knew that, and it only made him ache for more. Harry knew he had to pull himself out of this far too intimate embrace before anything else happened. 

"Go and freshen up, then join me in the other guest room. It's a rather annoying hassle to change the sheets at half past ridiculous in the morning when there's a perfectly made bed there, don't you agree?" 

   
\-----   
  


"Yeah," Eggsy agreed softly, feeling sleep pulling at him again already. "I'll be fhere inna minute. Get the puppies?" 

For a long moment Eggsy stayed just exactly where he was, thumb still stroking, cheek and ear pressed to Harry's chest listening. When Harry made no immediate move to leave Eggsy smiled softly, happily, spent a few more minutes basking in the comfort of Harry's warm, protective embrace, and then very slowly pulled away. 

"See you in a bit," he offered softly and slid gracefully from the bed. The air in the room was chilly compared to the warmth of Harry's embrace and Eggsy hurried to grab a change of boxers and sleeping bottoms. He wasn't putting a shirt on. Harry hadn't seemed to mind either time before, including tonight. He glanced over just before slipping into the hallway to see Harry scooping up Higgins. 

Eggsy showered quickly. He was too fucking tired to wank though he was sorely tempted. In the end, he was seeking Harry because which door lead to the guest bedroom Harry'd meant was beyond him. Probably he’d meant his own room and Eggsy was too fatigue addled in the head to think straight about it. He felt better but the massive and long run bout of adrenaline had knocked out most of his energy. He just wanted the bed and those arms again. Wasn't he just...ridiculous?   
 

"Harry?" Eggsy called approaching a slightly ajar door streaking light across the hallway carpet. 

   
 

 

 

 


	6. To all the stars that light the road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter was inspired by: ["Outnumbered" by Dermot Kennedy](https://open.spotify.com/track/6UjZ2Yx2g2a52XxiA8ONxZ?si=LC_eu8VsRAu9Pdzvy-07wQ)

Pulling away from Eggsy had felt like a physically challenging thing.  

Eggsy had been warm and firm and supple where the dangerous thoughts gurgling low in Harry's mind were liquid and volatile and unpredictable. Eggsy's presence was something Harry longed for so very much, and being  _away_ from him felt as wrong as much as being  _with_ him,  _embracing_ him, felt  _right_.  

Yet Harry had had to pull away from him at last, and he’d acted as if it had been nothing, as if it had meant nothing (while every single limb and muscle in his body would have argued quite the opposite); but Eggsy had needed his help, his support, and as much as Harry hadn’t denied him that (as if he could ever deny Eggsy anything, he realized at once), he couldn’t just let matters slip out of his hands and descend into the chaos he very much feared would be unleashed as a result. So he’d dutifully pulled away, he’d gently taken Higgins into his own arms, before heading towards the other guest room. He had lit the small abat-jour just above the bedside table, let Higgins down on the bed next to Sir Prince, who had woken up with the sudden light, yawning noisily.  

A few minutes later, Harry had a glass of water waiting on the bedside table closest to the door, he had finally slipped his dark blue pajama top on, and he was absentmindedly petting the two puppies as he waited for Eggsy. He thought about the nightmare, about  _both_ their nightmares, and about what Eggsy had told him. More than anything, he found himself thinking about his earlier musings, about the conclusions he’d come to during his solitary musings in the study -- what he was coming to suspect, more than anything.  

"In here" Harry replied, hearing Eggsy's voice from just beyond the door calling out to him, calling out his name.  

The sheets were pulled back in what Harry hoped was a welcoming manner, and the light from the lamp was soft and yellowish in hue; the room itself looked rather anonymous, despite the rich antiques and the heavy wooden furniture. Yet Harry hoped that, more than anything, his presence, no matter how inappropriate, would help soothe Eggsy’s concerns and dispel the ghosts still haunting his mind. 

\----- 

Eggsy pushed the door open wide enough to slip in then closed it behind him as he offered Harry a bright toothy smile, dropping his sweaty clothes by the door and closing it softly. Higgins toddled towards the edge of the bed curled tail wagging fiercely as he went which rather slowed him down a bit. Eggsy stepped forward and scooped him up kissing his flat little face on the cheeks and bouncing him against his chest a minute. " _Fhere's_  my good boy, Higgins. Go lay down wifh Prince now yeah? Daddy's tired." 

Eggsy set the puppy by Sir Prince again and made a beeline for the water glass. He drank half in a few gulps and then wiped his mouth with a quick swipe of his hand. "Fhanks, Haz. Fuck,  _you're the best._ " Eggsy crawled in glad that Harry seemed to have put Eggsy on his left side, which was exactly what Eggsy preferred. 

Eggsy settled in on his back at first waiting for Harry to settle in, his heart pounding with the excitement of this moment: their second night spent in the same bed! Eggsy was thrilled over the results, if not too pleased with their catalysts in both instances.  _Stupid nightmares._  

\----- 

Harry noticed how Eggsy seemed to have really taken to the 'Haz' nickname, something he wasn't overly fond of, seeing as he rather liked his usual nickname and it was already short enough not to warrant a further shortening, but didn't say a word on the matter. Out of all the nicknames Eggsy seemed to enjoy using, it was the most harmless. There were other, more important matters, namely how to behave himself and how to act when it seemed like this would be the second consecutive night they would spend sleeping together.  

How could Harry possibly maintain his distance? Perhaps simply laying down on his side of the bed and being relatively close to Eggsy, though not  _as_ close as they were before, embracing and practically glued at their chests, would be enough to make the younger man feel the safety, the closeness, and it would help him sleep better for the rest of the night.  

"You've nothing to thank me for, Eggsy. I remember you doing much the same, last night. Would you care for anything else? Some more water, some herbal tea, perhaps?" Harry said as he sat more comfortably on his side of the bed, facing Eggsy with his upper torso turned towards him so as to see him out of his good eye. He had still been wearing his glasses when he'd first heard Eggsy scream, and thankfully so, as the Kingsman technology had avoided a full-on military-style raid of the whole room, if not the whole house. He was endlessly thankful for them, more than he’d ever been during his career as a Kingsman spy, and that was saying something. 

\----- 

Eggsy snuggled down a little bit more and let out a breath. "Nah, Harry. I'm good. Fhanks fhough." 

His eyes felt so heavy and he was definitely ready to knock out again, but he couldn't stop looking at Harry. He could still feel the chill of terror like a vein of cold in his belly that ran down from his trembling heart. Harry was there. He could see that, but... he ached - the feeling a living thing in his chest - to touch that warm skin again. Of course Harry had a shirt on now so it would just be warm body but he yearned for it all the same. Seaglass eyes gave Harry a slightly assessing look. There wasn't a lot of room between them and if he just turned... well, if he slid closer first and then turned over he could reach back and snag Harry's arm over his waist. Or he could just scoot closer and see what Harry's reaction was then maybe go from there. He really doubted Harry would resist or protest but there was that nervousness that stemmed from knowing it was still possible for whatever reason. 

Pursing his lips, Eggsy met Harry's gaze and then moments after speaking his answer, he slid forward, closing the distance between them by turning on his side and moving into Harry's space surprisingly smoothly. His gaze dropped to Harry's chest as he brought his free hand (the one not now curled under his pillow and head) up to splay over Harry's beating heart. Slowly his eyes closed and he breathed a deep easy breath. 

\----- 

When Eggsy slid underneath the covers and declined Harry's offer to get him anything more that he might need, Harry nodded and got into bed himself, turning around only briefly to turn off the lamp above the bedside table and then take off his glasses, feeling more at ease without them now that there was only barely enough light from the street outside to make out silhouettes and general shapes in the dark.  

Once he turned back around, there was the soft sound of sheets rustling, along with the mattress dipping with movement. Just like that, Harry found himself with an armful of Eggsy, his hand pressed to his chest, above his heart, just like it had been earlier. Harry’s heart shattered a little more as he understood at once that, feelings or no feelings, this was clearly a need for closeness, for human, physical contact, for safety. Not to mention, since Eggsy’s nightmare had been about Harry’s death as well, so it came as no surprise that Eggsy would perceive and feel the need to have that physical proof of Harry's wellbeing as all the more significant.  

In but a few moments, Harry seemed to have made his decision. Once more, the need to reassure Eggsy, to keep him safe, relaxed, comfortable, to keep all those torments at bay as much as he could, won over whatever rational principle of keeping his distance, of knowing where he should have been standing, knowing when to take a step back because nothing could ever happen, nothing  _would_ ever happen. It just couldn't. Despite that, the need to ensure Eggsy’s wellbeing, to be there for him, was stronger than anything. 

"Come here" Harry murmured, just a faint sound between them, feeling the initial tension bleed out of his shoulders as he accepted what was happening and his arms automatically wrapped themselves around Eggsy, tight enough to be felt as an embrace, yet not too tight that Eggsy couldn't pull away if he wanted or needed to. 

\----- 

With a sigh Eggsy snuggled in close. "Thanks Harry," he murmured softly his voice a little tremored by the fluttering feeling of excitement. Harry had to have feelings for him. This couldn't just be about comforting a friend. The embrace felt charged with a flow of emotional currents he'd never experienced before and it felt important. Like any other young man his age he'd had crushes and trysts and he'd snogged behind the bleachers on occasion even, but the thrill of those things was nothing like this. 

He lay still just lounging in Harry's arms. This was a unique situation for Eggsy. He couldn't remember ever being held gently, lovingly. He was sure his mom and even his father must have when he was young, but not since Lee Unwin had died had he been held without grief factoring into the embrace. His grief over Harry's loss had passed now replaced by relief and Harry's offered comfort. He could stay here like this forever, he thought, but he knew that limbs would fall asleep if they stayed like his for too long. He held his breath for a moment and very slowly started to shift. His heart was pounding. Would Harry make the natural movements to follow him over? Would Harry take the physical cues to follow Eggsy down deeper into the bedding? Would he willingly snuggle up behind Eggsy? Or was this too much? Was Eggsy crossing the line? He prayed not and caught at Harry's wrist, hoping to encourage him to give in to the heightened moment and maintain contact. He wasn't turning away to pull back. He was looking to get comfortable and yet maintain the contact. For both of them. 

\----- 

Harry was just beginning to relax with Eggsy is his arms, he was only just  _beginning_ to feel those pestering thoughts ease away the slightest bit from his mind, allowing him a moment of reprieve to catch his breath, maybe even dare to enjoy this, whatever  _this_ even was... When Eggsy started to move.  

Harry's instinct was to immediately loosen his hold, feeling his stomach drop in sudden mortification at the sheer idea that he'd imposed his own sad, old, lecherous wishes to have Eggsy close to him, that he'd somehow done something that the younger man didn't want, something that would make him want to get away from him. But no -- Eggsy seemed to be rolling over onto his other side, and he did so while holding Harry's wrist, as if both to guide him and to ensure that Harry wouldn't let go.  

It was even worse, if such a thing were possible. It was, quite simply, taking things too far. There would be no coming back from something like that, from holding Eggsy like a lover, from holding Eggsy like he  _wanted to –_ and heavens above did he want to, so bad, it actually  _hurt._  

"Eggsy, I--" Harry began, about to explain the hundred reasons why this was a very,  _very_ bad idea and why he just  _couldn't,_ until suddenly it hit him once more. The memory of what had happened no more than fifteen minutes prior. Eggsy, crying, calling out his name desperately, dreaming of Harry's death. Over and over, probably for  _months,_ if Harry's guess was correct. That wasn't something that he could accept. Eggsy hurting, Eggsy needing safety, needing contact, affection, needing a reminder that he was okay, that Harry was alive... Seeing Eggsy as helpless as those moments, it was just more than Harry's heart could take.  

He made a mental promise to himself to talk about it with the younger agent at the earliest possible moment, but for now...  

"Never mind." Harry dismissed with a soft sigh, then, feeling his heart both break and soar at the same time, Harry finally followed Eggsy's movements and rolled around a little himself, resting his arm around Eggsy's side, though he kept a respectful amount of distance between their bodies.  

"Good night, Eggsy. I do hope you sleep well." Harry softly said, closing his eye and trying to concentrate on something else, anything that wasn't the now dangerously familiar scent of Eggsy, the closeness, the warmth of him, the way he felt beneath his arm and beneath his hand.  

\----- 

Already sleepy, Eggsy felt a warm, quiet lassitude settle over him as Harry shrugged off a slight hesitation and settled in behind him. Harry's well-toned arm settled warm and steadying over his side and Eggsy closed his eyes, fingers still curled softly closed around the older man's wrist. He hummed, snuggled into the mattress and pillow. He murmured a drowsy slightly less than coherent mumble (that was still decidedly enthusiastic) of, " _Yes_ , Harry." 

With a few, sleepy snuffling noises, Eggsy finally relaxed. With Harry at his back Eggsy felt at peace.  _Safe_.  ** _Wanted_**. It was... it was so indescribably amazing that the presence of one man - one good, kind, fantastic man - could squash all the years of Eggsy barely sleeping for fear of being caught unawares by the angry and demanding men his mum brought home. 

 _'Go to the store, Eggsy!'_  

 _'Get the beer, Eggsy!'_  

 _'Get out so I can bang yer mum without knowin' yer hearin', Eggsy!'_  

Shouts that were usually accompanied by Eggsy getting yanked out of bed and given the boot (usually to the side). Any wanker stupid enough to try something like that now would likely end up broken and bleeding on the floor and not just because Eggsy was a professional killer himself... but also because of the superspy at his back. Harry would never let something happen to him. Eggsy just knew. Just as Eggsy would never let anything ever happen to Harry again. Not if he could do something about it. 

Sleep claimed him quickly for a second night for the first time in a very long time. 

****** 

Eggsy woke warm and languid, secure and happy. A warm weight pressed close to his back and he smiled happily the grin blooming until it was half teeth and half sultry curve of his lips. Harry, it would seem, had settled right in curled protectively around him as if he could shield Eggsy from the world. It was...  ** _the_** _best thing_... the most amazing thing Eggsy had ever experienced. How had he lived his life without this? How could he have survived if Valentine had really... 

\----- 

After he’d spent quite some time ruminating, brooding, overthinking what was happening, what had happened that evening, that night between them Harry had eventually given in to sleep, when the body underneath his arm had been slack with sleep for some time already.  

Hours later found their two bodies much closer together, with the long, sturdy column of Harry's body pressed to Eggsy's smaller one, not a hair's breadth between them from torso to thighs.  

When Harry woke up, it took him a moment to realize where he was, and most of all, whom he was holding between his arms, and why. He realized belatedly that not only did he not have his glasses on, of course, and that he'd forgotten to put on his eyepatch, but also, and most of all, that he must've pressed himself this close to Eggsy for the better part of the night.  

Harry gave himself a mental slap. This was... Unacceptable. Last night, he'd allowed himself a freedom to touch, cuddle, show physical affection the likes of which should never have trespassed on the outside world, they should never have left his deepest desires, which he made a strict habit of crushing down because they could simply  _never happen._ They were not supposed to.  _They_ could not happen. Harry knew that he'd acted that way as a reaction to Eggsy's predicament, but  _this..._ This was taking it a step too far.  

Any hopes of escaping this without Eggsy realizing what had happened or waking up were close to none -- Eggsy had moved in his arms, which meant that he was probably awake. If he was awake, it meant that he, too, had realized the compromising position they were in. The need to have that conversation he'd stopped himself from starting the previous night became that much more significant and pressing.  

With a soft sigh, Harry started to pull his arm away, slowly, gently, just in case Eggsy was still sleeping. Just as he was about to gently call out his name by doing so, Harry's Kingsman glasses chimed, signaling an incoming call. 

The spell, if there had ever even been one (Harry wasn't above considering himself rather delusional), was broken. They were called back to their duties, which had always come before personal matters -- not that Harry had even had any personal matters to speak of, not really even when his parents had passed away.  

Pulling away from the embrace as swiftly yet as gently as he could, Harry twisted his torso to the other side and took them from the bedside table, slipping them on and accepting the call.  

"Yes, Galahad Sr., speaking." He answered, his voice more than a little rough with sleep, cringing at his own poor choice in codename. He was no longer Galahad, the most recent events had proven that. He was soon to become Arthur, if the evaluations went well.  

" _Apologies for the inconvenience, Agent Galahad Sr, Sir. Codename Agent Hildegard speaking, of the Deutchman branch, responsible for inter-agency relations. I have been in contact with Quartermaster Merlin, temporary head of the security and intelligence division, and head of the research and development division, in regards to the psychological and physical evaluations toggled by the activation of the three protocols currently in place, Lazarus, Doomsday and Throne. We were told that the process should be done as swiftly as possible given the rather critical and extraordinary predicament, so we made the necessary arrangements to start today._ "  

The woman's voice from the other side of the line was young, yet authoritative and firm, the definite German lilt and pronunciation not invalidating her very clear, no nonsense message in any way. 

\----- 

As Harry had begun to pull away, Eggsy had had that momentarily whirlwind mental debate of ' _to stop or not to stop_ ' Harry from pulling away. The chime of Harry's glasses put an end to that and Eggsy allowed his face to scrunch up in a miffed little pout about it before he tipped back. Galahad Sr. huh? He kind of liked that. It made them sound connected. Not just that Eggsy was the "next Galahad in succession" but that he was Harry's  _chosen_  successor. He couldn't hear what was being said by whomever had made the call, but Harry's slight frown said it was definitely official business though nothing "serious" of the moment. 

Eggsy shifted onto his back, catching a glimpse of Harry - his hair mussed and his handsome face sadly once again obstructed by frames - looking soft and fresh from sleep. Eggsy brought up a hand to rub at his eyes, hoping to burn that image into his mind forever despite his waking haze, and it seemed like that was all the movement necessary to trigger a happy good morning from the puppies. Higgins and Sir Prince were on their little feet and clumsily trampling up Eggsy's legs, stomach and chest until they were both licking his face like crazy little wriggling beasts and Eggsy couldn't help himself. He grunted once when Higgins stepped right on his bladder and started laughing. "Okay! Okay! Come on fhen. Harry's on an official business call, you little monsters! Let's go outside, hm? Who's gotta go wee? Out t’the lawn potty, c'mon!" 

He did his best to speak softly even though the laugh had been kind of loud and scooped the puppies up. Their tails were little propellers and their little paws just kept paddling, their tongues lapping at the underside of Eggsy's chin and making him smile huge and laugh again (though he did his best to keep it down this time) as he slipped out of bed and carried the puppies downstairs. He clipped their leashes on and took them out in his pajama bottoms. It was a nice if slight chilly morning and Eggsy was feeling oddly refreshed. Usually after a nightmare he spent the next day melancholy and exhausted. 

Once the pups had done their business, Eggsy fed them and went to use the loo himself. He came right out and clothes took the pups out again after they ate so they could do the rest of their business and then headed upstairs to grab and a shower. Harry was still on the call (Eggsy could tell by the man's soft voice filtering through the slightly open bedroom door) so he let him be and went downstairs, Kingsman glasses on and phone in hand as he searched for a YouTube video to feed his glasses on the best way to prepare bangers and mash or something equally easy and filling. 

\----- 

The joyous, bright sound of Eggsy's laughter momentarily distracted Harry from the call, and he was pretty sure agent Hildegard had heard it too. No matter, it was none of her business, and besides, their German counterparts were known for being quite discreet people. They all had to be, really, given their line of work. Given the circumstances, no one would honestly have dared to tell him anything anyway. He was proud of the relationship he had with Eggsy -- if anything, Eggsy was the best thing, or person, to have ever happened in his life, and there was no way he would feel pressured into thinking any less of it because of what others thought. People who thought otherwise could fuck right off, thank you very much. So really, Harry didn't have it in him to cast Eggsy a glance and silently ask him to lower his voice, also because the scene unfolding before his eyes, between him and the puppies, was so utterly endearing and cute, it made his heart  _ache._  

After that, Eggsy left with the puppies and Harry continued the call, exchanging some information with the German agent -- how long the two evaluations would be, where they would be taking place, and such other nonsense. Once that information had been exchanged, Harry thanked the agent and bid her farewell, knowing that they would be meeting in a few hours' time.  

After a quick shower and having donned a double breasted, dark grey pinstriped suit, Harry headed downstairs. Judging by the smell, breakfast had been started, and yet Eggsy was nowhere to be found. Harry followed the sound of his voice, coming from the back of the house, from the stairs of the small patio leading to the back garden. Perhaps Eggsy had received a call similar to Harry’s own, regarding the protocols – or, at least, the ones that regarded him. 

After a brief belly rub to both puppies, Harry headed over to the kitchen and picked up where Eggsy had left off: sausages and mashed potatoes, which Harry finished cooking properly, set some coffee and tea brewing, and then prepared a bit of cider and apple gravy, which felt like it was a better suited taste for breakfast, as opposed to the more traditional onion gravy. Just as he was setting the last few items on the table, Eggsy came back in, and Harry looked up with a small, but warm smile. It didn't feel like the right moment to have that talk that Harry had been thinking about last night. They both probably had a great deal to be done today, if Eggsy's expression was anything to go by, and most of all, Harry wanted to be sure that Eggsy was alright after last night. The Talk could wait. 

\----- 

"Mornin' Harry," Eggsy greeted as he slid out a chair and swung down into it gracefully. "Agent Grimm - no joke, fhat's his codename... like as in  _Fairy Tales_  - says I hafta head t'the temporary HQ as soon as possible. Fhey're unconcerned about my 'physical prowess' - 'e actually said it lihke fhat! -" the younger Agent had a chuckle as he cut up his sausages closing his eyes briefly as he delightedly inhaled the delectable aroma and took a bite. Mouth full he still murmured, "Fhis is the  _dog's bollocks_ , Harry!  _Mmf_!" Before swallowing and taking a sip of tea. "- but fhat fhey want t'evaluate my psychological fitness. You?" 

Eggsy was in incredibly high spirits this morning. He'd had an amazing nightlong cuddle with the man of his very domestic daydreams. Another one of which was happening right now! Breakfast with the man holding his heart like they was a real couple! And whatever Harry had done with the gravy was making Eggsy mushy inside. He'd never had this kind before. The house, the puppies, the comfort and safety.... all of it fantasy made real all around him. First and foremost of which was that warm little smile - almost shy - that Harry had greeted him with which had bolstered Eggsy's belief that they were indeed in uncharted territory. Something far beyond the 'proposed agent and sponsor' they'd started as and again something beyond the friends they had become. 

"Want me t'ask my mum t'babysit the dogs?" He asked as a spontaneous thought before his Cloud Nine mood  made him forget. Even that question had a bigger grin pulling at Eggsy's cheeks even as he took another happy bite of the delicious breakfast. 

\----- 

"Good morning, Eggsy. I thought I'd finish cooking what you'd started, since you had to take the call. Apologies if I woke you up this morning." Harry replied, putting the pan back on the stove and sitting down, taking a few sips of tea with a certain satisfaction before cutting up his sausage.  

"I  _do_ hope that's a positive expression, Eggsy" Harry replied with equal parts bemusement and fondness written on his face at Eggsy's expression.  

He was honestly extremely happy about the way Eggsy seemed to compliment his cooking so enthusiastically each time, so much that Harry was more than happy to cook for him as long as it made Eggsy this happy. It almost made Harry's heart ache, to think that Eggsy got so excited when someone cooked something for him. It did obviously mean care and love and affection and just that amount of thoughtfulness that Eggsy had probably never known much of, before, and that thought cemented Harry’s promise to himself even more.  

"It's just some cider and apple gravy, hardly Michelin-starred cuisine. But thank you." Harry said with a soft smile, listening to what Eggsy had to tell him about the phone call he'd shared with 'Agent Grimm'. Smirking the slightest bit, Harry took another sip of tea, glad that the atmosphere between them seemed to be relaxed, and not at all what he'd feared.  

"He'll probably have a brother, though I'm hoping for the sake of practicality that they don't share the codename. We would have something to say on the matter." Harry pointed out, aiming for one of his usual, rather lame jokes.  

"Yes, that would probably be wise. Thank you. Or, I could ask Mrs. Tara, the woman who occasionally cleans up this house, to look after them. She won't mind." Harry offered, sitting back for a moment, before sharing the contents of his own call.  

"They need to evaluate my physical prowess and psychological wellbeing as well, though they didn't say so, not in so many words. I suppose the matter will be rather complicated, given the nature of the circumstances. I have the honor of having to go through the evaluations that come with  _three_ different protocols. That might even be a record of some sort. I wonder what our Deutschman friends have in store for us, though I'm sure you'll be done with them in no time, Eggsy. It will be a piece of cake for you, as they say. Have they told you when they will be starting with your evaluations?" 

\----- 

"Yeah, having two Galahads is confusing for most people an' fhat's temporary since you'll be Arfhur soon. Can't imagine whot it's lihke having two Grimms all the time. Nah, don’t bofher Mrs. Tara. Mum'll get pissy if we ask anyone else. Fhey're her  _granpuppies_  she says. Made a fuss last time when I suggested leavin'em wif the driver. I'll give her the address yeah?" Eggsy polished off his plate and hummed happily, picking up his tea and taking a mouthful of the warm delicious brew. " _Definitely_  the dog's bollocks... which is a glowing recommendation, jus' FYI. Fuck, make me fhat any time, Harry. Swear down, it'll neveh go t'waste." He took another swallow of his tea looking happy and content to share that moment, that meal, that conversation with Harry as if they'd been doing so forever. It reminded him a little bit of the 24 hours they'd been granted before the Dog Test. 

"Said fhey're startin' today. Guess fhey need me back on the active roster soon as they can get me cleared. Minor uprisings an' some fhreats on what's left o'the Royal Family Line. Small stuff but we're spread fhin." Eggsy finished off his tea and went for a cup of coffee in one of those disposable to go cups. As he added cream and sugar he said, "Fhree protocols? Whot? Doomsday's still active, I know, but whot's the rest?" 

\----- 

Harry breathed out a laugh, brief and silent, before finishing up his breakfast and stacking up the plates along with the cutlery and everything else that had been used. It would need washing, the fine china delicate and thin in his hands. Not that he gave a damn, really.  

"I'm not entirely sure I like that expression, especially not when being referred to food." Harry pointed out teasingly, though he was only a tiny bit serious. Sometimes, Eggsy's slang was... trying, on the ears. Not his manner of speech, per se, but some expressions just grated on the ears. Still, the breakfast was 'the dog's bollocks' and Harry would be more than happy to make that for Eggsy as many times as he liked.  

"I will, I certainly will, since you like it so much. But truly, the sauce is nothing particularly difficult to make."  

Harry listened to the directions Eggsy had received in regards to the upcoming evaluations and agreed that putting him back into full active status as soon as possible made sense. Harry couldn’t, however, deny that he still felt odd, like he, too, wanted to be a part of it, not just... sitting and watching from the sidelines, being treated as fragile because he'd been officially dead for a year and was now Arthur material. On top of that, the idea of Eggsy protecting those supercilious, snotty, bratty, conceited idiots from the Royal Family Line, or, well, the surviving ones, made Harry almost snort in amusement.  

Just as he was about to say something, he remembered he hadn't told Eggsy, and they would hopefully be smart enough to take him off the bloody list.  

"Throne and Lazarus protocols. Both rather self-explanatory, but I can give you some details, if you like. You'll no doubt get a debrief shortly anyway." Harry said casually, almost as if it were nothing, as he carried the stack of dirty dishes to the sink. 

\----- 

"An' not hafta read the whole brief?  _Yes_  Harry!" And Eggsy was back to thinking he'd listen to Harry read a damn phonebook, so long as he could watch those lips form the words and hear that lovely, low voice speak. Eggsy turned, coffee in hand, and leaned back against the counter. He took a sip his eyes on Harry. Of course he would rather hear it from Harry. His grin was easy, still happy, and just a touch cocky. Harry had the voice of a sex god and he was both enchanted by and proud of that. Maybe that was putting the cart before the horse or whatever, but Eggsy had been proud of even just knowing Harry and now he was getting to know Harry even better. 

It felt like no matter what he faced in these new, upcoming trials, so long as he had moments like this to return to he would pass with little effort. 

\----- 

Harry huffed another bout of laughter and proceeded to methodically, precisely wrap his shirt sleeves and fold them in such a way that they would only crease the slightest bit beneath the jacket sleeve, so as to not be visible beneath it. Then, with practiced ease, Harry started to wash up the dishes and stack them away once they were rinsed.  

"Would you mind drying them off, Eggsy?" He asked, barely glancing to the side once, to where he was leaning against the counter. "There's a cloth just there to the side."  

Eggsy looked all too distracting, tailored suit in place, hair properly styled, and that impish, almost cocky glint in his eyes and in the curve of his smile. Harry wasn't sure if he was more attracted to the supple line of his body or if he was more frustrated by said attraction. Either way, it had to stop if either of them wanted to get anything done.  

"The majority of what is written on those files is utter rubbish, anyway. Uselessly pompous wording over something that could be so much easier to comprehend if only it were explained normally." Harry admitted with clear amusement. Sometimes Eggsy reminded him so much of himself, it was ridiculous.  

"The Lazarus protocol is what happens when an agent returns to the Kingsman or one of its branches after having been allegedly killed during a mission or having gone MIA. An agent needs to be tested on both a physical and psychological level, but most of all, Kingsman needs to be sure they haven't been compromised." Harry explained, continuing both his tasks of washing and explaining casually, as if it were nothing.  

"Missing agents aren't usually greeted with open arms, but rather with handcuffs and brutal and isolation until every potential threat is neutralized. If there were an Arthur, he could have me executed just for the greater good of the organization. But since there has never been any kind of similar situation in the history of Kingsman, I believe the latter threat should be less of an issue. As for the Throne protocol, it's exactly what it sounds like. Testing me, my abilities, my mental health, my ability to perform strategically under stress, and such other concerns, to assess whether or not I am fit for the position of Arthur." 

\----- 

"Yeah alrigh'," Eggsy agreed easily and grabbed the towel Harry had motioned to. He set his coffee aside and stepped close to Harry's elbow, not close enough to be in the way, but close enough to be in Harry's space as Eggsy took up the first dish and started to dry. He listened quietly as Harry explained, his heart constricting almost painfully at the thought that someone would want to kill Harry.  _Good, loyal, brave, dutiful Harry_. He sighed empathetically with Harry's obvious plight. 

"Sounds lihke you're gonna ‘ave your hands full. But Harry? You don't let fhem kill you on me yeah? If you fhink fhings is goin' pear shaped you get the fuck out an' come find me. We'll sort it out. I don' wanna be Kingsman if fhey kill you jus' cuz fhey feel like it's easiest anyway yeah?" 

Eggsy leaned in and bumped his shouldered against Harry's, leaning into him for just a moment, a solid show of support and solidarity. 

\----- 

This time around, Harry smiled -- a fond, warm, albeit small thing, which made his good eye crinkle if only briefly.  

"You needn't worry, my dear boy. Nobody is going to be killing me anytime soon, not if I can help it, and certainly no one from Kingsman. After all, it's just the three of us -- you and I and Merlin. It would take a greater threat than little old me to warrant an execution." Harry added, belittling himself in an attempt to make a joke out of it all; for once, his ego didn’t feel the need to make a show and underline just how much of a threat he could be. He was, bar none, one of the most dangerous and lethal individuals in the country and quite possibly in the world, but that wee little fact did not need to be underlined or spoken aloud. 

Harry glanced out of his good eye towards Eggsy when he felt the apparently casual closeness became a physical, rather present thing. He knew that his death was still a rather raw topic for him. Harry wasn't quite sure how else to tell Eggsy that he wasn't risking his life in these silly little evaluations. Besides, Richmond Valentine had already taken care of the 'killing Harry Hart' once already. Harry would prefer to remain in one piece until the right time came for him, thank you very much for that. Not that Kingsman agents had a particularly long life span, but...  

"Not to mention, like I said, that there is no one in place for the Arthur position at the moment. Our loyalties lie with ourselves. We have the three of us to rely on and that's more than I've been able to say for the majority of my life." Harry concluded with a surprisingly light, almost chipper tone, as they finished cleaning up the last few plates. 

\----- 

"My loyalties are wifh you, Harry. I said it t’Chester King. I meant it." Eggsy stated seriously turning his head so he could lock eyes with Harry. Fortunately Harry was a bit taller so Eggsy was able to look up through his lashes a bit as he leaned into Harry's shoulder for just another moment, the pressure a warm weight hopefully for both of them. 

"You want me t'make you a coffee t'go, Haz?" He asked softly before the air got too heavy with the sincere gravity. He hadn't felt love like this before. The need to do any little thing, every little thing he could for Harry. The need to be close like this. To talk and share the burdens of their lives. To feel like Harry felt the same way which Eggsy was very much beginning to suspect. It was all so much but never too much. Eggsy wanted this feeling. Craved it. Wanted it desperately to stay and grow and flourish. He wanted that  _with Harry_. 

\----- 

As he finished the last of the washing, Harry turned towards Eggsy, meeting his gaze and holding it, meaningfully, remaining silent for a few long minutes.  

He had known for a while that Eggsy must have made no mystery of where his loyalty lay, back when he'd been face to face with Chester King. Eggsy wasn't one to mince words, wasn't one to beat around the bush when it came to facing things head on. And Harry loved him for it, with a fierceness that made his blood boil and his body itch to just pin him to the closest wall and rob him of his words, of his breath with a long, bruising kiss.  

The fact that Eggsy had told Chester King, in no uncertain terms, that he  _stood with Harry, --_ not with Kingsman, not with Merlin... It made his chest constrict and squeeze with the sheer force of the love he felt for this brilliant, generous, selfless man.  

 _You don't deserve him, old man. --_ the thought was there, as clear as day, with a mile-long list of reasons, and Harry understood that there was no fighting it, especially not after last night, not when he'd allowed himself to be greedy, far too greedy. He didn't deserve Eggsy, and what he'd allowed himself was utterly unacceptable already. He could only hope he hadn’t fucked things up irreparably. 

"Thank you, Eggsy." Harry said, his voice quiet but firm, heavy with meaning, before Eggsy  offered to get him a coffee cup to go.  

"Yes, that would be most appreciated." He nodded, getting his sleeves sorted and his suit jacket back on, and he was back to being fully dressed in his literal suit of armor in no time. 

"Are we dropping Sir Prince and Higgins off to your mother's? Or is she coming over to pick them up?" 

\----- 

Eggsy's grin to Harry's gratitude was surprisingly soft. "I'll text her an' we can drop'em off. We should haul our sorry asses t'HQ before fhey send the Americans t'come get us or somefhing." 

Busying himself with fixing Harry his coffee to go, Eggsy felt light and settled. This right here was where he belonged. He felt it right down to the marrow of his bones. He'd faced impossible odds, even death to be right here where he was and he felt like life had given  _him_ the second chance even if he wasn't the one who had come back from the dead. He wasn't gonna waste it either. 

It wasn't long before Eggsy had two cups of coffee ready to go. With a puppy tucked under each arm and a cup in each hand he made his way to the door calling, "Ready when you are, Harry!" 

He couldn't wait to get things moving and for things to be a little more like they should have been if not for Richmond soddin' Valentine. 

\----- 

When Harry went to meet Eggsy at the door, he shook his head in slightly exasperated fondness at the ridiculous picture of the young man in his twenties, wearing a bloody expensive suit, holding a cup of coffee in each hand and an eagerly wriggling puppy under each arm.  

"You're quite ridiculous, Eggsy." Harry commented fondly, smiling before taking Sir Prince and the coffee that Eggsy gave him moments later.  

After a brief stop at Michelle's house to drop off the two puppies and their necessities for the day, they finally made it to the temporary Kingsman headquarters: an imposing, elegant, modern building, all glass and gleaming white structure, which looked like any other modern building hosting a bureaucratic office or some kind of business company. It was officially owned by a subsidiary company (owned by Kingsman, of course), and the woman at the front desk smiled, welcomed them and gave them a visitor's badge without even asking who they were, before sending them up to the fourth floor for their respective appointments.  

After that, it was a whirlwind of things. Harry took his leave from Eggsy with an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder, before entering the office. Agent Hildegard was there, waiting for him with a team of four -- a doctor, two physical evaluators and a military psychiatrist. Harry knew what awaited him, so he took it all in stride.  

After a very, very thorough medical examination came an exercise stress test, and after that, the first part of the physical evaluation was over. They would proceed to the second part once he was cleared on the interrogation front, concerning the Lazarus protocol. And interrogate Harry they did. It wasn't anything Harry hadn't already experienced before. Having been taken prisoner a grand total of three times (twice voluntarily, the first time to end the mission more quickly and with less of an inconvenience, and a second time because Chester King had made him), Harry really wasn't expecting anything overly intimidating. He'd been tortured and hurt in captivity before, by people with surprising creativity given the laughable intellectual quotient they had, so by now, it was all rather old hat to him.  

As they questioned him, Harry chose to only make their lives difficult with sly or teasingly innocent answers when they were being purposefully stupid, because he knew how the game worked, and they knew that he knew how the game worked. Some questions weren't easy to answer, but Harry prided himself on being able to keep a stiff upper lip even when facing the more horrifying truths of what he'd done.  

 _Had he known those people he'd killed? Had Valentine tried to corrupt him when he had gone to have dinner with him under the name or Mr. De Vere? What had the Statesmen done to him in all those months? What had happened inside of the church? How had he felt while killing those people? Had he ever felt similarly since then? What had triggered the return from the amnesia?_    
 

By the time the first day was over, Harry was feeling rather exhausted, drained, empty. He dragged himself into the hotel-like room that he’d been assigned inside of HQ, wanting to sleep for hours on end; yet, no matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn't seem to find some reprieve. He texted Eggsy instead, hoping not to bother him.  

 _Hello, Eggsy. Apologies if I'm bothering you, I only wanted to ask how things were doing. They're obviously checking my texts but feel free to write. We are allowed some discretion. Have a good night. - HH._  

   
\----- 

 

Eggsy’s phone chimed at him just shortly after he had finally laid down. He had opted to utilize the small motel style bathroom of the stay-over business suite provided by the facility temporary HQ was housed in after doing a regimen of sit-ups, push-ups, burpees and planks to try and burn off his restless, worried energy. He had gone to bed still feeling irritable (he was worried about Harry, probably needlessly, but also he wasn't  _with_  Harry and he found that he didn't like not sharing space with the man any more, that it produced a sort of restless agitation in him), but now he stared at the message on his phone feeling like a balloon of warm air had been inflated in his chest. Harry had messaged him before bed! Harry had reached out, sought Eggsy's companionship even remotely as it was for them in that moment. He couldn't believe how giddy that made him feel! Long into the night, he stared at the text, just reading it over and over, even after he had replied with: 

 _Posh Grimm_ _🧐_ _and Extra Posh Grimm_ _🧐🤑_ _tag-teamed me (u was right he has a brother) on basic debrief psych-evals after **extra**  handsy doctor-Agent Frau Müeller's physical exam _ _😖_ _Things got busy for a bit but they've already scheduled my re-instatement mission. Local and basic, but I know there'll be a twist. They treating u alright, Harry? Well, they better be._ _🤨_ _Or I'll be having words with their boss yeah?!_ _❤_ _🍳_  

 

\----- 

 

Eggsy’s prompt reply had surprised Harry, but more than anything, he had felt that by-now-familiar warmth blossoming and spreading throughout his chest. He missed Eggsy – which was absolutely ridiculous, seeing as he’d only seen him that same morning. He would have very much liked to tell him about the tests, the interrogations, have a laugh with him about how idiotic they were – thinking they could break into his mind. As if they could have – much worse men than them had tried. Which made him wonder what sort of game Merlin and Deutschman were playing: why the white-glove treatment? The two people who had interrogated him were young, barely more than amateurs. 

Aching to have someone (Eggsy) to talk to about it, to share his thoughts, to vent about people’s idiocy, Harry sighed softly and typed out a reply, wondering if he’d be able to get any sleep on the somewhat uncomfortable single bed he’d been relegated to.  

 

 _Your absolutely visionary and artistic use of those tiny yellow faces never fails to amaze me. I hope the “extra handsy doctor” was put back in their place – or, if they were cute, that they at least gave you their number. There is no “boss” to speak of yet, but the food is passable (edible, at the very least, which is more than I can say for many other places I’ve been to) and the bed is... well, it’s horizontal. I hope to see you soon. Give the puppies my love when you see them._  

 

The following day was much the same. More questions, often the same ones. Some were asked over and over. Some were asked in different ways, with different psychological approaches. Giving them what they wanted while simultaneously keeping himself together enough to always be a step in front of them was a truly exhausting process, one that Harry hoped wouldn't be prolonged for another day -- something which they could do, if they saw fit.  

There was another physical test, this time under more physical stress. Harry was fairly satisfied with his results, but he longed for some peace and quiet. He longed for Eggsy's presence, his smiles and laughter and his wise-beyond-his-years words. By the end of the second day, Harry ached for the sparring evaluation of the next day, if only to get rid of the tension and low-key aggression he'd built up during the two days and endless hours of nonstop interrogation. 

 

\----- 

 

Eggsy continued to stare at the texts (Harry's initial text, Eggsy's emoji-ladened reply, and a few quickly exchanged pleasantries with ‘good night's attached to them) all through the beginning of the following day like a lovelorn school girl (even fondly caressing the screen from time to time as if it were a paper note from her crush). He even continued to stare at it while he sat in an airport lobby. He didn't even care that he looked like some lovestruck teenager mooning over their new boyfriend or whatever. Harry had  _texted him_  and even though they'd said goodnight shortly after checking in with each other, Eggsy was as elated as he would have been if they'd text-conversed all night! Harry had messaged him! A sure sign that there was a mutual connection between them if nothing else. It made it very hard to focus on top of knowing the objective of the mission that had him currently sitting in the airport lobby. 

So, Roxy had returned from the “dead" (not unlike Harry and having survived Poppy's missile by quick reflexes and the nuclear fallout closet in each and every room and hall of the old Avalon) and  _bloody fucking hell_  was Eggsy insanely surprised and very much elated about her being alive and coming back into the Kingsman fold via his first mission back from Poppyland. Eggsy had opted to stay overnight at temporary headquarters too after being told Harry wouldn't be coming home, and Merlin had shipped him right off to the airport first thing the next morning to pick her up as she returned from France and her intensive Lazarus Protocol interrogations there. It just felt like everything was going so very well. Like everything was coming together by just falling into place. Not that any of it was easy, but they weren't meeting any unexpected snags or problems in any of the proceedings. 

Eggsy greeted Roxy like he would have greeted Daisy after not seeing her for so long and having thought she was dead. There was a bear hug and laughter and even a little bit of tears and then he'd ushered Roxy and her single shoulder bag of belongings into his Vanquish and taken her straight to the Black Prince for fish and chips and a couple of beers for lunch. He wanted some downtime and a distraction from the niggling and completely unnecessary worrying he was doing over Harry.  

During one of his moments of weakness where he was staring at Harry's text like the lovesick dope he was, while waiting for Roxy to come back from the ladies', Roxy snuck up behind him and took a peek over his distracted shoulder, glanced at his swooning face and congratulated him on finally getting with his own program because she had called his infatuation from the start but had been too polite – bless her, what a brilliant mate she was - to say anything before she felt Eggsy was ready to hear it. Roxy had laughed herself silly and asked him what part of him thought Harry would find the gratuitous use of emojis funny, but clearly she didn't know him ‘n' Harry at all. Eggsy had sent the text the night before and gone to sleep feeling much better, less wound tight, after hearing from Harry, and offering his hilariously (if he did say so himself) supportive text in return. Then Merlin had called, interrupting their “girl talk” moment, and immediately sent them each on an evening mission in two different locations local to London to protect families who were on the much shorter list of who was next in line for the English throne. Roxy and Eggsy were each given a dossier specific to a list of the next twenty families in line for the throne which included pictures, brief bios, and any other pertinent information. It was partly necessary to give them a roster so that they could be well informed Agents who could do their job efficiently but also so they could be home in time for the scheduled simulation Harry was expected to run the following afternoon which Merlin told them about at the end of the brief he gave them on their mission via their glasses as they were each picked up by separate Kingsman cabs and whisked off to complete their missions. 

A group of disgruntled people from further down The List were trying to kill off the people ahead of them so that they could have the throne and as Eggsy flipped through his dossier in the back of his cab on the way to his destination he came across a very familiar face and felt his heart skip a beat in surprise and jump to a faster rhythm at the sight of a slightly younger Harry Hart. Much of the file had been redacted and the picture was oddly outdated which was suspicious up until the moment he counted the individual packets in the dossier and confirmed Roxy's count at twenty and his own at twenty-one. He shot Merlin a cryptic but simple ‘Thank you' via glasses text, putting the crazy revelation on a mental shelf to be dealt with later, and got down to business. 

Eggsy's mission went off without a hitch as did Roxy’s. Foiling a dual assassination attempt on the first and second in line for the crown after all the chaos with Richmond Valentine and Poppy Adams felt like child's play (even Roxy agreed the would-be murders were kind of pathetic) if only because of the lack of world ending potential the mission held. The only thing was  _now_  there was  ** _a List_**  burning a hole in his breast pocket, waiting for the right moment to be revealed to the very man he and Roxy were heading down to the observation suite to... well, observe. With the previous evening successfully behind them both, Eggsy felt even more like they were on the right track to getting Kingsman on its feet again, so despite the fatigue from the long and eventful night, Eggsy was walking alongside Roxy on his way down to watch Harry kick some ass rather than going home and going to bed like a sensible person. Sensible people did not have massive crushes on their mentors. Merlin was riding shotgun via Eggsy’s and Roxy's glasses and his newly remade tablet-clipboard. 

" _This outta be interesting. Take notes Lancelot,_ " Merlin spoke to them both over the comms. 

“Yes, Merlin,” Roxy replied sounding intrigued. “I've heard lots about the esteemed Agent Galahad from former Agent Percival. I’m certain this will be something worth watching.” 

"Oi! Fhat's righ'! Rox, you've neveh seen Harry  _actually_  fight! First time I met him he took out a  _whole pack_  o'Dean's fhugs defending my honor. Poodle was stupid enough t’try an’ insult me by implyin' I was a rent boy an' Harry took exception.  _Fuck_... was I eveh glad for the boofh fhat day! Was tenting my fuckin' jeans –  ** _Oi!_** Whot are you lot doin' here?" Eggsy balked in the doorway to find Tequila and Bourbon already lounging about the suite meant for observation of trial proceedings for Agents moving into positions like King and Quartermaster or to execute the Lazarus Protocol that was set up like a sports box at an arena game. 

"Was told there's gonna be a show," Tequila drawled and pulled the unlit cigarette from between his lips. "Some nerdy lil’ fella lookin' at Bourbon's lasso who didn't seem to like us much said not too unkindly that we should head over here and watch a real agent at work.” 

"Yeah?" Eggsy inquired surprised by the random R&D guy's cheek. At Bourbon's slow grin and nod, Eggsy guided Roxy forward by slipping arm over her shoulders and pulling her into the room beside him as he stepped the rest of the way through the door. "Agent Lancelot, this is Agent Tequila and Agent Bourbon from Statesman in Kentucky." 

Roxy eyed them both but was politely neutral as she greeted them with an even, “Pleasure to meet you.” 

Tequila and Bourbon both tipped their hats in greeting with a unified statement of, ‘Ma'am,’ by way off polite Southern Greetings, but Merlin interrupted any further exchange with an anticipatory, " _It's starting._ " 

And from that moment Eggsy's focus narrowed as he moved to the one way observation glass, sharp adoring green eyes glued to Harry as he stepped through a door into the staged warehouse set up (for realism or whatever). Harry's hair was a touch disheveled, Eggsy's training noting it was likely from having a bag pulled off his head. No watch. No Rainmaker, but he wouldn't be surprised if Harry had his guns. Not that he would use them. It was the temptation of being able to that the evaluators would be looking for. Merlin had said so during the walk down the hall. Eggsy could see two men dressed as thugs with a woman on the arm of the man who was obviously in charge, all of whom were approaching Harry with all the cocky swagger of most villains who thought they had the whole world figured out and nothing could prove them wrong. Two more men hung back in the shadows at Harry's flanks. It was all pretense and all part of further evaluation from what Merlin had said, but Eggsy hissed in sympathy. Unable to stay quiet, Eggsy murmured, "These boys don't know that they've bitten off more than they can chew." 

Unfortunately, he apparently hadn't muttered quietly enough and everyone heard him because Agent Bourbon immediately commented, “Yer boy's blind in one eye, Galahad." Bourbon pointed out sounding like they were crazy or setting Harry up for failure. Eggsy felt he should be benevolent on the matter because Bourbon and Tequila were both just unaware of Harry's true prowess. "We saw the footage from Former Agent Whiskey's cleanin' up after Galahad Sr. started a bar brawl." 

Eggsy gave him a sharp look but Bourbon just looked thoughtful not sneering or anything. "Harry just needed to find his balance," Eggsy stated, using his "feeling good" voice consistently now that they were in the company of Agents other than Lancelot and Merlin. "Remind me to show you the fight footage from Poppyland sometime," he added his tone light and very smug before looking back down on the scene. 

Words had been exchanged and the "thugs" had made the first move. The woman had been swung forward by the man she'd been hanging on like a limpet, almost like she were a swinging mace and her knee hit Harry dead in the center of his chest.  

It was on from there.  

Eggsy hoped he wasn't drooling as he'd nearly done at the Black Prince having the privilege to observe Harry's deadly, spartan grace. His minimalist movements and precise strikes were ruined only when his blindside couldn't (yet) be compensated for. As they watched, Roxy tapped his ribs gently with her elbow and turned her face towards his ear when he leaned her way without looking away from the spectacle down below. 

“He's rather an awe-inspiring fighter isn't he? Minimalist movements for efficiency’s sake and easy on the eyes … and I'm not even into men,” she murmured into his ear, making Eggsy grin hugely and nod emphatically though his eyes never left the figure of Harry Hart. 

“Yeah, but you should see him when ‘e's  _really_  fighting. He's a bloody show off. You shoulda been fhere for the Black Prince, Rox. He's somefhing t'see.” It was all Eggsy could do not go on about how magnificent a show Harry was capable of when he was feeling his oats as it were. In the end, Harry held back only the pistols in his shoulder holsters, cleaning up the lot of them without even a slight hesitation over the woman. A low whistle and a few cuss words of appreciation from the Americans filtered through Eggsy's Harry induced fog, but Roxy beside him was still and silent. 

\----- 

Harry had never shied away from a fight, especially not since he'd joined the Kingsman ranks. It was like dancing, the partner's move predictable when not downright choreographed. When one was met with an unexpected issue, the only way was to work around it, pretend it had never happened, never allow it to throw off one's balance.  

Harry did indeed have to deal with an issue, and quite a significant one; he hadn't really had the chance to truly put himself to the test ever since he'd woken up one-eyed, and between Poppyland and the unfortunately embarrassing predicament at the pub in Kentucky, there hadn't really been any chance to test out his messed up balance and perception. Still, when he was taken, blindfolded, to a completely bare, large room, Harry understood that this test would prove exactly that -- whether or not his handicap had perpetually ruined his combat ability.  

So he did what he often did: let his partner show his hand first, identify his weaknesses, and then strike. Five opponents or one -- it made no difference, the dynamic was the same.  

Barely a couple of minutes into the fight, Harry had taken down two of them and had found a way to keep his blind side as shielded and unreachable as possible, fighting sideways in a more Judo-oriented fighting technique. While Harry excelled in both close combat and distant combat, he favored the former, for it allowed him to perform clear, efficient holds and throws, it allowed his blows to effortlessly meet their target, and ultimately, having two or three people against him almost worked in his favor.  

By the time he was finished, Harry stood there, hair in disarray, reasonable shortness of breath, a probable bruise forming on his left cheekbone, beneath his missing eye, if the pulsing ache was anything to go by. No sound came from anywhere in the padded room, no consequence to what he'd done, so Harry just sighed softly, almost as if he were being stood up, gave a small, impish little wave to where he guessed the camera was hiding (and Merlin was watching, as a consequence), then sat on the ground with his back against the wall and starting tapping his foot aimlessly, almost as if he were bored by what had been mere child’s play. 

An hour later found him, still in his training uniform, simple workout sweats and plain white t-shirt, in agent Hildegard's office once more, being debriefed on the results of the first part of the evaluation.  

He had been cleared of the Lazarus protocol after the successful results of the interrogation and the first few medical evaluations, which meant that Harry could, at the very least, go home and sleep in his own bed from that moment onwards. He hadn't been overly fond of the antiseptic white walls and uncomfortable bed (though he hadn't dwelled on the fact that the bed wasn't uncomfortable  _per se,_ but rather, its dramatic lack of Eggsy inevitably rendered it so), nor had he been fond of the sleepless, insomnia-filled nights, partly triggered by the rather emotionally-heavy questions from the interrogation. Fortunately for him, not only had there been no Arthur to speak of who could have his head without so much as a ‘by your leave’, if only to guarantee Kingsman’s safety, but Statesman had provided an irrefutable alibi: he had been their ‘captive’ ever since he’d been shot by Valentine, so there was nothing unaccounted for, nothing that could make Deutschman suspect him any more than pure formality dictated. 

By dinner time, Harry was finally being dropped off at his family townhouse, surprising himself at the way he felt:  _relieved._ Happy to be there, even. That had never happened before, in the history of his relationship with the house and its former occupants. It wasn’t exactly hard to guess why that was, or rather,  _who_ it was that was making him feel that happiness and relief. 

Stepping inside and dropping his own file on the closest available surface, Harry ventured inside and was immediately greeted by the two puppies, happily barking and welcoming back in that precious way of theirs. Harry didn't have it in him to refuse them a cuddle, no matter how utterly exhausted he felt, and no matter how much his aching body protested.  

 _Getting old after all, Harry..._  

"Eggsy?" He called out, unable to discern where he could be, and not wanting to activate the glasses uselessly. Eggsy would surely call out back to him as soon as he heard him or he must have a perfectly good reason to be holed up wherever he was inside of the house. Harry hadn't heard from him since the text messages they'd exchanged, and honestly, he was very much looking forward to spend the evening in Eggsy's company. The thought (that  _he,_ Harry Hart, a lifetime spent in solitude with only the occasional and entirely temporary paramour, wished to spend the evening after a long, arduous day, in the company of someone else) should have shocked him so much more than it did; what he felt and  _how much_ he felt for Eggsy was really something he was discovering day by day and it seemed that he was in deep, deeper than he'd ever dreamt of being in his entire life. He could only hope that he would be ready for the fall -- not  _if,_ but  _when_ the fall happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We apologize for our posting schedule being a bit all over the place but we all know how real life is. Nevertheless, we figured we'd post a chapter a day early as a thank you to all those following us, leaving comments and kudos! You people are the best, seriously.
> 
> As always, feedback is massively appreciated!
> 
> Much love,
> 
> espressopulse & innerain

**Author's Note:**

> Our ideal schedule is to post one chapter every other Sunday.
> 
> As said above, we, the authors, are on completely different continents, in completely different time zones (putting us roughly 6 hours apart throughout the day) and we both have real life to deal with, but we will do out best to maintain that schedule.
> 
> Comments, constructive criticism and support are very much appreciated!


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